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1861 vs, 1882. 



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CO. AYTCH," 



MAURY GRAYS, 



hm Tennessee Regiment; 



OR, 



A SIDE SHOW OF THE BIG SHOW, 



By SAM. R. VV ATKINS, 
COLUMBIA, TENN. 



" Quaeque ipse miserinia vidi, 
Et quorum pars magna fui." 




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if k'^ ' V 0<> If , -v , , 



sS^OPWASHlNG'^S^ 



NASHVILLE, TENN.: 

CUMBERLAND PRESBYTERIAN PUBLISHING HOUSE. 
1882. 



JM WS 



Knternl aocdiiling to Act of Congress, in the year 1S82, by 

AIRS. VIRGINIA J. WATKINS, 

in tilt' office of tlic Libnirian of Congress, at Washington. 



to the memory 
of my dead 
comrades of the 
Maury Grays, 
AND THE First Tennessee Eegiment, who 

DIED IN DEFENSE OP SOUTHERN HOMES AND 
LIBERTIES ; ALSO TO MY LIVING COMRADES, 
NEARLY ALL OP 
WHOM SHED 
THEIR BLOOD IN 
DEFENSE OF THE 
SAME CAUSE, THIS 
BOOK IS RES- 
PECTFULLY DED- 
ICATED BY THE 
AUTHOR. 



PREFACE. 



" Co. Aytch." — This week's Herald contains the last number 

of " Co. Aytch " that will be published in the paper 

. . . . The Generals, and President, and Vice-President, and 
other high officials have j^ublished their accounts of the war, but 
Sara Watkins is the first high private who has written up tlie 
common soldier side of the matter. In big, gilt-edge books, the 
General, the President, and the Vice-President, tell about their 
plans, their battles, their retreats, their measures, and their ideas, 
and not a word about what the poor, sore-footed, hungry, and 
naked soldier felt. In " Co. Aytch," we see the old " webfoot," 
dressed in a dirty, greasy, gray suit — or rather non-suit — a cotton 
blanket thrown across his shoulder, and fastened under his car- 
tridge-box belt ; a greas}^, dirty haversack hanging down — very 
thin and flabby; with shoes of untanned leather. There he goes, 
footsore, tired, and hungry, but chipper and sassy, and ready for 
the battle. In " Co. Ayteh " we see this same " webfoot " in camp, 
cooking his rations — corn meal bread, corn meal coffee, corn meal 
soup, blue beef, with not an eye of grease on it. He lies down on 
the cold ground, in an old thin blanket, and shivers through the 
night. In '' Co. Aytch," we hear this " webfoot "' talking to his 
comrades, cheering their drooping spirits, discussing the situation, 
defending the General, hoping for final victory, and a glorious re- 
turn home to father, mother, and sweetheart. In " Co. Aj'tch " we 
see this same " webfoot," hungry, ragged, dirty, and footsore, "on 
the battle's perilous edge," the light of victory in his eye, a gun 
with a gleaming bayonet in his hands, springing forward like a 
deer, a ringing shout upon his lips, rushing up to the breastworks, 
behind which belch Napoleon guns and volleys of musketry ; see 
him cross the ahattis at a bound ; see him as he stands upon the 
enemy's ramparts, shouting victory ! In " Co. Aytch " we see this 
same " webfoot " shot down by a minnie ball, and lying cold and 
stark in death, and thrown into a common shallow grave, unhon- 
ored, unknown, and unsung, far away from fond loved ones. In 
" Co. Aytch " we see other soldiers, driven by hunger, stealing 
hogs, others deserting and going home. All this we see in " Co. 
Aytch." Every old soldier, and every son of an old soldier, should 
have a copy of it. — Columbia Herald. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I.— Ap'l 14, 18G1, v. Ap'l 14, 1882. 

We are one and undivided 9 

The bloody eliasm 11 

Eighteen hundred and sixty-one 12 

Canip Cheatliaui l'> 

On the road 15 

Staunton 10 

Warm Springs 17 

Cheat Mountain 20 

Sewell Mountain 21 

Roiiiney 21-i 

Standing picket on the I'otoniae 25 

Sih wart /.and I'tifer 27 

The eourt-niartial 28 

The death wateli 29 

Virginia, farewell 30 

CHAPTER n.— SniLOii. 

Shiloh 32 

CHAPTER III.— CoiUNTU. 

Corinth :« 

Rowland shot to death 41 

Killing a Yankee sharpshooter 42 

Colonel Field 43 

Captain .)oe P. Lee 44 

Corintli forsaken 45 



CHAPTER IV, 

Tui)el 



-TLTI'ELO. 



Tlie eourt-martial at Tupelo 47 

Raiding on roastingears 48 



CHAPTER v.— Kkntucky. 

We go into Kentucky 

Tlie battle of PeiTvville 

Tlie retreat out of Kentucky. 

Knoxville 

Ah, Sneak 

I line the cavalry 



CHAPTER VI.— MURFREESBORO. 

Murfreesboro 

Battle of Murfreebboro 

Robbing a dead Yankee 



CHAPTER VII.— Shelbyville. 

Shelby ville 

A foot race 

Eating mussels 

Poor I5erry Morgan 

Wriglit shut to death with musketry. 

Dave Sublett promoted 

Down Duck river in a eanoe 

Shineral Owledowskv 



CHAPTER VIII.— Chattanooga. 

Back to Chattanooga 

Am visited by my father 

Out a larking 

Hanging two spies 

Eating rats 

Swimming the Tenn. with roastingears 

Am detailed to go foraging 

Please pass the butter 

We evacuate Chattanooga 

The bull of the woods 

The wing of the "Angel of Death " 



CHAPTER IX.-CiilcKAMAiuA. 

Battle of Chickamauga 45 

After tlie battle " % 

A night among the dead 97 

CHAPTER X.— Missionary Ridgk. 

Missionary Ridge <);) 

Sergeant Tucker an<l (ieneral Wilder.. 100 

Moccasin Point jol 

Battle of Missioiniry Ridge 101 

(iood-bye, Tom Webb 10.5 

The rear guard ,[ loO 

Chickamauga Station ' 107 

The battle of Cat creek u)S 

Ringgold (iap loo 

CHAPTER XI.— Dalton. 

Gen. Joe E. Johnston takes eoiamand. Ill 

Coinnns.saries 115 

Dalton ["" 115 

Shooting a deserter 116 

Ten men killed at the mourners-bencil IIG 

Dr. C. T. (iuinfard 117 

Y's, you got my hog us 

Target shooting 121 v 

Uncle Zack and Aunt Dajdine 122 

Red tape 123 

I get a furlough 125 

CHAPTER XII— Hundred Day.s' Battles. 

Rocky Face Ridge 12s 

Falling back i;j(j 

Battle of Resacca 131 

Adairsville octagon house 134 

Keiinesaw line 1.36 

Detailed to go into the <'neniy's lines.. 1.36 

Death of (ieneral I.eonidas Pidk 138 

(iencral Lucius 10. Polk wounded 139 

Dead Angle 141 

Battle of New Hope Church 1.50 

Battle of l)aUa.s 1,51 

Battle of Zion Church 152 

Kingston 1,54 

Cassville 154 

On the banks of thoCliattahoochee 15.") 

Removal of Gen. Joe E. Johnston l.ie 

<;en. Hood takes command 1.57 

CHAPTER XIII.— Atlanta. 

Hood strikes 1,51) 

Killing a Yankee .scout 159 

An old citizen 162 

My fiiends 1(53 

An army without cavalry 164 

Battle of July 22nd, 1864 '.'.'."... I65 

The attack ige 

Am pronnjted 171 

28th of July at Atlanta 172 

I visit Montgomery 172 

The hospital. ! 174 

The Capitol ." 175 

/ Am arrested 177 

Those girls 173 

The talisman 173 

The brave Captain 179 

How I got back to Atlanta 180 

The death of Tom Tuck's roaster 182 

Old Joe Brown's pets 184 



CONTENTS. 



CHAI'TKU Xlll.—Conlinued. 

We jj" iifttT •Sliiiioniun 185 

lU-lliiiii I-clhiili- 187 

I»fiilli of !i Vuiiki'f Lii'iitfiiiiiit lUO 

Atlaiila forsaken llll 

CHAITEIt XIV.— .loNESBORO. 

Battle of Jniicsbor.. 194 

Death of Lieiitenunl .loliii Whittaker.. 196 

Tlieii eoiiies tliu farce 199 

I'almett.. 201 

.fetr Davis makes a speech 203 

Armistice iiiilv in name 204 

A SCI. lit '. 205 

What is this Kehel iloiiiK here 207 

I^M)k out, t)oys 208 

Am caiitiired 209 



CHAPTKU XV.— AnvANtKiNTo Tk.nne.ssek 

(ien. Horxl makes a flank movement... 210 

We capture Dalton 2i:{ 

A man iti tlie well 214 

Tusiunihia 21 > 

Kn route for Columhia 215 

CHAPTER XVr.— Battles in Tenxksskk. 

Columbia 218 

A fiasco 219 

Franklin 220 

Nasliville 224 

CHAPTER XVII.— The Surrender. 

Tlielastaet of thedrama 2:tl 

Adieu 23:! 



COMPANY "AVTCH," FIRST TENNESSEE REGIMENT. 



CHAR 1.— APRIL 14, 1861, vs. APRIL 14, 1S82. 

"■ WE ARE ONE AND UNDIVIDED." 

Abont twenty years ago, I think it wa.s — I won't be certain, 
though — a man whose name, if I remember correctly, was Wm. 
L. Yancy — I write only from memory, and this was a long time 
ago — took a strange and peculiar notion that the sun rose in the 
east and set in the west, and that the compass pointed north and 
south. Now, everybody knew at the time that it was but the 
idiosyncrasy of an unbalanced mind, and that the United States 
of America had no north, no south, no east, no west. Well, he 
began to preach the strange doctrine of there being such a thing. 
He began to have followers. As you know, it matters not how 
absurd, ridiculous and preposterous doctrines may be preached, 
there will be some followers. Well, one man by the name of (I 
think it was) Rhett, said it out loud. He was told to "s-h-e-e." 
Then another fellow by the name (I remember this one because 
it sounded like a graveyard) Toombs said so, and he was told to 
" sh-sh-ee-ee." Then after a while whole heaps of people began 
to say that they thought that there was a north and a south ; and 
after a while hundreds and thousands and millions said that 
there was a south. But they were the persons who lived in the 
direction that the water courses run. Now, the people who lived 
where the water courses started from came down to see about it, 
and they said, " Gents, you are very much mistaken. We came 
over in the Mayflower, and we used to burn witches for saying 
that the sun rose in the east and set in the west, because the sun 
neither rises nor sets, the earth simply turns on its axis, and we 
2 



10 APRIL 14, 1861, vs. APRIL 14, 1882. 

know, bccauso we are Pure(i)tan.s." The spokesman of the party 
was named(I think I remember his name because it always gave 
me the blue.« when I heard it) Horrors Greeley ; and another per- 
son by the name of Charles Sumner, said there ain't any north 
or south, east or west, and you shan't say so either. Now, the 
other people who lived in the direction that the water courses 
run, just raised their bristles and continued saying that there is 
a north and there is a south. When those at the head of the 
water courses come out furiously mad, to coerce those in the di- 
rection that water courses run, and to make thoin take it back. 
Well, thoy went to gouging and biting, to pulling and scratching 
at a furious rate. One side elected a captain by the name of JeflP 
Davis, and known as one-eyed Jeff, and a first lieutenant by the 
name of Aleck Stephens, commonly styled smart Aleck. The 
other side selected as captain a son of Nancy Hanks, of Bowling 
Green, and a son of old Bob. Lincoln, the rail-splitter, and whose 
name was Abe. Well, after he was elected captain, they elected 
as first lieutenant an individual of doubtful blood by the name 
of Hannibal Hamlin, being a descenda'ht of the generation of 
Ham, the bad son of old Noah, who meant to curse him blue, 
but overdid the thing, and cursed him black. 

Well, as I said before, they went to fighting, but old Abe's 
side got the best of the argument. But in getting the best of 
the argument they called in all the people and wise men of other 
nations of the earth, and they, too, said that America had no 
cardinal points, and that the sun did not rise in the east and set in 
the west, and that the compass did not point either north or south. 

Well, then. Captain Jeff Davis' side gave it up and quit, and 
they, too, went to saying that there is no north, no south, no east, 
no west. Well, "us boys" all took a small part in the fracas, 
and Shep, the ])rophet, remarked that the day would come when 
those who once believed that the American continent had cardi- 
nal points would be ashamed to own it. That day has arrived. 
America has no north, no south, no" east, no west; the sun rises 
over the hills and sets over the mountains, the compass just 
points up and down, and we can laugh now at the absurd notion 
of there being a north and a south. 



APRIL 14, 1861, vs. APRIL 14, 1882. 11 

Well, reader, let me whisper in your ear. I was in the row, 
and the following pages will tell what part I took in the little 
unpleasant misconception of there being such a thing as a north 
and south. 

THE BLOODY CHASM. 

In these memoirs, after the lapse of twenty years, we propose 
to fight our " battles o'er again." 

To do this is but a pastime and pleasure, as there is nothing 
that so much delights the old soldier as to revisit the scenes and 
battle-fields with which he was once so familiar, and to recall the 
incidents, though trifling they may have been at the time. 

The histories of the Lost Cause are all written out by " big 
bugs," Generals and renowned historians, and like the fellow 
who called a turtle a " cooter," being told that no such word as 
cooter was in Webster's dictionary, remarked that he had as 
much right to make a dictionary as Mr. Webster or any other 
man; so have I to write a history. 

But in these pages I do not pretend to write the history of the 
war. I only give a few sketches and incidents that came under 
the observation of a " high private " in the rear ranks of the 
rebel army. Of course the histories are all correct. They tell 
-of great achievements of great men, who wear the laurels of 
victory; have grand presents given them; high positions in civil 
life ; Presidents of corporations ; Governors of States ; official 
positions, etc., and when they die, long obituaries are published, 
telling of their many virtues, their distinguished victories, etc., 
and when they are buried, the whole country goes in mourning 
and is called upon to buy an elegant monument to erect over the 
remains of so distinguished and brave a General, etc. But in 
the following pages I propose to tell of the fellows who did the 
shooting and killing, the fortifying and ditching, the sweeping 
of the streets, the drilling, the standing guard, picket and videt, 
and who drew (or were to draw) eleven dollars per month and 
rations, and also drew the ramrod and tore the cartridge. Par- 
don me should I use the personal pronoun " I " too frequently, 



12 APRIL 14, 1861, vs. APRIL 14, 1882. 

as I do not wish to be called ctrotistical, for I only write of what 
I saw as an humble private in the rear rank in an infantry regi- 
ment, commonly called " wcbfoot." Neither do I propose to 
make this a connected journal, for I write entirely from memory, 
and you must remember, kind reader, that these things happened 
twenty years ago, and twenty years is a long time in the life of 
any individual. 

I was twenty-one years old then, and at that time I was not 
married. Now I have a house full of young " rebels," clustering 
around my knees and bumping against my elbow, while I write 
these reminiscences of the war of secession, rebellion. State rights, 
slavery, or our rights in the territories, or by whatever other 
name it may be called. These are all with the past now, and the 
North and South have long ago " shaken hands across the bloody 
chasm." The flag of the Southern cause has been furled never 
to be again unfurled ; gone like a dream of yesterday, and lives 
only in the memory of those who lived through those bloody 
days and times. 

EIGHTEEN HUNDRED AND SIXTY-ONE. 

Reader, mine, did you live in that stormy period? In the 
year of our Lord eighteen hundred and sixty- one, do you re- 
member those stirring times? Do you recollect in that year, for 
the first time in your life, of hearing Dixie and the Bonnie Blue 
Flag? Fort Sumter was fired upon from Charleston by troops 
under General Beauregard, and Major Anderson, of the Federal 
army, surrendered. The die was cast ; war was declared ; Lin- 
coln called for troops from Tennessee and all the Southern States, 
but Tennessee, loyal to her Southern sister States, passed the or- 
dinance of secession, and enlisted under the Stars and Bars. 
From that day on, every person almost was eager for the war, 
and we were all afraid it would be over and we not in the fight. 
Companies were made up, regiments organized ; left, left, left,. 
was heard from morning till night. By the right flank, file left, 
march, were familiar sounds. Everywhere could be seen South- 
ern cockades made by the ladies and our sweethearts. And some 



APRIL 14, 1861, vs. APRIL 14, 1882. 13 

vvlio afterwards became Union men made the most fiery secession 
speeches. Flags made by the ladies were presented to companies, 
and to hear the young orators tell of how they would protect 
that flag, and that they would come back with the flag or come 
not at all, and if they fell they would fall with their backs to the 
field and their feet to the foe, would fairly make our hair stand 
on end with intense patriotism, and we wanted to march right off 
and whip twenty Yankees. But we soon found out that the 
glory of war was at home among the ladies and not upon the 
field of blood and carnage and death, where our comrades were 
mutilated and torn by shot and shell. And to see the cheek 
blanch and to hear the fervent prayer, aye, I might say the 
agony of mind were very different indeed from the patriotic 
times at home. 

CAMP CHEATHAM. 

After being drilled and disciplined at Camp Cheatham, under 
the administrative ability of General R. C. Foster, 3rd, for two 
months, we, the First, Third and Eleventh Tennessee Regiments, 
Maney, Brown and Rains, learned of the advance of McClel- 
land's army into Virginia, toward Harper's Ferry and Bull Run. 

The Federal army was advancing all along the line. They 
expected to march right into the heart of the South, set the 
negroes free, take our property, and whip the rebels back into the 
Union. But they soon found that secession was a bigger mouth- 
ful than they could swallow at one gobble. They found the peo- 
ple of the South in earnest. 

Secession may have been wrong in the abstract, and has been 
tried and settled by the arbitrament of the sword and bayonet, 
but I am as firm in my convictions to-day of the right of secession 
as I was in 1861. The South is our country, the North is the 
country of those who live there. We are an agricultural people ; 
they are a manufacturing people. They are the descendants of 
the good old Puritan Plymouth Rock stock, and we of the South 
from the proud and aristocratic stock of Cavaliers. We believe 
in the doctrine of State rights, they in the doctrine of centraliza- 
tion. 



14 APRIL 14, 1861, vs. APRIL 14, 1882. 

John C. Calhoun, Patrick Henry, and Randolph, of Roanoke,- 
saw the venom under their wings, and warned the North of the 
consequences, but they laughed at them. We only fought for our 
State rights, they for Union and power. The South fell battling 
under the banner of State rights, but yet grand and glorious even 
in death. Now, reader, please pardon this digression. It is 
every word that we will say in behalf of the rights of secession 
in the following pages. The question has been long ago settled 
and is buried forever, never in this age or generation to be resur- 
rected. 

The vote of the regiment was taken, and we all voted to go to 
Virginia. The Southern Confederacy had establislied its capital 
at Richmond. ^C^4*t*M^ 

A man by the name of Jackson, who kept a hotel in Mary4aftd, 
had raised the Stars and Bars, and a Federal officer by the name 
of Ellsworth tore it down, and Jackson had riddled his body 
with buckshot from a double-barreled shot-gun. First blood for 
the South. 

Everywhere the enemy were advancing ; the red clouds of war 
were booming up everywhere, but at this particular epoch, I refer 
you to the history of that period. 

A private soldier is but an automaton, a machine that works 
by the command of a good, bad, or indifferent engineer, and is 
presumed to know nothing of all these great events. His busi- 
ness is to load and shoot, stand picket, videt, etc., while the 
officers sleep, or perhaps die on the field of battle and glory, and 
his obituary and epitaph but " one'^ remembered among the slain, 
but to what company, regiment, brigade or corps he belongs, 
there is no account — he is soon forgotten. 

A long line of box-cars was drawn up at Camp Cheatham one 
morning in July, the bugle sounded to strike tents and to place 
everything on board the cars. We old comrades have gotten to- 
gether and laughed a hundred times at the plunder and property 
that we had accumulated, compared with our subsequent scanty- 
wardrobe. Every soldier had enough blankets, shirts, pants and 
old boots to last a year, and the empty bottles and jugs would 
have set up a first-class drug store. In addition, every one of us 



APRIL 14, 1861, vs. APRIL 14, 1882. 15 

had his gun, cartridge-box, knapsack and three days' rations, a 
pistol on each side and a long Bowie knife, that had been pre- 
sented to us by William Wood, of Columbia, Tenn. W^e got in 
and on top of the box-cars, the whistle sounded, and amid the 
waving of hats, handkerchiefs and flags, we bid a long farewell 
and forever to old Camp Cheatham. 

Arriving at Nashville, the citizens turned out en masse to re- 
ceive uSj and here again we were reminded of the good old times 
and the "gal we left behind us." Ah, it is worth soldiering to 
receive such welcomes as this. 

The Rev. Mr. Elliott invited us to his college grove, where had 
been prepared enough of the good things of earth to gratify the 
tastes of the most fastidious epicure. And what was most novel, 
we were waited on by the most beautiful young ladies (pupils of 
his school). It was charming, I tell you. Rev. C. D. Elliott 
was our Brigade Chaplain all through the war, and Dr. C. T. 
Quintard the Chaplain of the First Tennessee Regiment — two of 
the best men who ever lived. 

ON THE ROAD. 

Leaving Nashville, we went bowling along twenty or thirty 
miles an hour, as fast as steam could carry us. At every town 
and station citizens and ladies were waving their handkerchiefs 
and hurrahing for Jeff Davis and the Southern Confederacy. 
Magnificent banquets were prepared for us all along the entire 
route. It was one magnificent festival from one end of the line 
to the other. At Chattanooga, Knoxville, Bristol, Farmville, 
Lynchburg, everywhere, the same demonstrations of joy and 
welcome greeted us. Ah, those were glorious times; and you, 
reader, see why the old soldier loves to live over again that happy 
period. 

But the Yankees are advancing on Manassas. July 21st finds 
us a hundred miles from that fierce day's battle. That night, 
after the battle is fought and won, our train draws up at Manas- 
sas Junction. 

Well, what news? Every one was wild, nay, frenzied with 



16 APRIL 14, 1861, vs. APRIL 14, 1882. 

the excitement ni' victory, and we felt very much like tlie " boy 
the calf had run over." We felt that the war was over, and we 
would have to return home without even seeing a Yankee soldier. 
Ah, how we envied those that were wounded. We thought at 
that time that we would have given a thousand dollars to have 
been in the battle, and to have had our arm shot off, so we could 
have returned home with an empty sleeve. But the battle was 
over, and we left out. 

STAUNTON. 

From Manassas our train moved on to Staunton, Virginia. 
Here we again went into camp, overhauled kettles, pots, buckets, 
jugs and tents, and found everything so tangled up and mixed 
that we could not tell tother from which. 

We stretched our tents, and the soldiers once again felt that 
restraint and discipline which we had almost forgotten en route 
to this place. But, as the war was over now, our Captains, Col- 
onels and Generals were not " hard on the boys ;" in fact, had 
begun to electioneer a little for the Legislature and for Congress. 
In fact, some wanted, and were looking forward to the time, to 
run for Governor of Tennessee. 

Staunton^was a big place; whisky was cheap, and good Vir- 
ginia tobacco was plentiful, and the currency of the country was 
gold and silver. 

The State Asylums tor the blind and insane were here, and we 
visited all the places of interest. 

Here is where we first saw the game called "chuck-a-iuck," 
afterwards so popular in the army. But, 1 always noticed that 
chuck won, and luck always lost. 

Faro and roulette were in full blast ; in fact, the skum had 
begun to come to the surface, and shoddy was the gentleman. 
By this, I mean that civil law had been suspended ; the ermine 
of the Judges iiad been overriden by the sword and the bayonet. 
In other words, the military had absorbed the civil. Hence the 
gambler was in his glory. 



APRiT. 14, 1861, vs. APRiJ. 14, 1881. 17 

WARM SPRINGS, VIRGINIA. 

One day while we were idling around camp, June Tucker 
sounded the assembly, and we were ordered aboard the cars. We 
pulled out for Millboro; from there we had to foot it to Bath 
Alum and Warm Springs. We went over the Allegheny Moun- 
tains. 

I was on every march that was ever made by the First Tennes- 
see Regiment during the whole war, and at this time I cannot 
remember of ever experiencing a harde"" or more fatiguing 
march. It seemed that mountain was piled upon mountain. No 
sooner would we arrive at a place that seemed to be the top than 
another view of a higher, and yet higher mountain would rise 
before us. From the foot to the top of the mountain the soldiers 
lined the road, broken down and exhausted. First one blanket 
was thrown away, and then another ; now and then a good pair 
of pants, old boots and shoes, Sunday hats, pistols, and Bowie 
knives strewed the road. Old bottles and jugs, and various and 
sundry articles were lying pell-mell everywhere. Up and up, 
and onward and upward we pulled and toiled, until we reached 
the very top, when there burst upon our view one of the grandest 
and most beautiful landscapes we ever beheld. 

Nestled in the valley right before us is Bath Alum and Warm 
Springs. It seemed to mef at that time, and since, a glimpse of a 
better and brighter world beyond, to the weary Christian pil- 
grim who may have been toiling on his journey for years. A 
glad shout arose from those who had gained the top, which 
cheered and encouraged the others to persevere. At last we got 
to Warm Springs. Here they had a nice warm dinner waiting 
for us. They had a large bath-house at Warm Springs. A large 
pool of water arranged so that a person could go in any depth he 
might desire. It was a free thing, and we pitched in. We had 
no idea of the enervating effect it would have upon our physical 
systems, and as the water was but little past tepid, we stayed in a 
good long time. But when we came out we were as limp as dish- 
rags. About this time the assembly sounded and we were or- 
dered to march, but we couldn't march worth a cent. There we 



18 APRIL 14, 1861, vs. APRIL 14, 1882. 

had to stay until our systems had had sufficient recuperation. 
And we would wonder what all this marching was for, as the 
war was over anyhow. 

The second day after leaving Warm Springs wc came to Big 
Springs. It was in the month of August, and the biggest white 
frost fell that I ever saw in winter. 

The Yankees were reported to be in close proximity to us, and 
Captain Field with a detail of ten men was sent forward on the 
scout. I was on the detail, and when we left camp that evening, 
it was dark and dreary and drizzling rain. After a while the 
rain began to come down harder and harder, and every one of us 
was wet and drenched to the skin — guns, cartridges and powder. 
The next morning about daylight, while standing videt, I saw a 
body of twenty-five or thirty Yankees approaching, and I raised 
my gun for the purpose of shooting, and pulled down, but the 
cap popj)ed. They discovered me and popped three or four caps 
at me ; their powder was wet also. Before I could get on a 
fresh cap, Captain Field came running up with his seven-shooting 
rifle, and the first fire he killed a Yankee. They broke and run. 
Captain Field did all the firing, but every time he pulled down 
he brought a Yankee. I have forgotten the number that he did 
kill, but if I am not mistaken it was either twenty or twenty- 
one, for I remember the incident was in almost every Southern 
paper at that time, and the general" comments were that one 
Southern man was equal to twenty Yankees. While we were in 
hot pursuit, one truly brave and magnanimous Yankee, who had 
been badly wounded, said, " Gentlemen you have killed me, but 
not a hundred yards from here is the main line." We did not 
go any further, but halted right there, and after getting all the 
information that we could out of the wounded Yankee, we re- 
turned to camp. 

One evening. General Robert E. Lee came to our camp. He 
was a fine-looking gentlemen, and wore a moustache. He was 
dressed in blue cottonade and looked like some good boy's grand- 
pa. I felt like going up to him and saying good evening. Uncle 
Bob ! I am not certain at this late day that I did not do so. I 
remember going up mighty close and sitting there and listening 



APEiL 14, 1861, vs. APEiL 14, 1882. 19 

to his conversation with the officers of our regiment. He had a 
calm and collected air about him, his voice was kind and tender, 
and his eye was as gentle as a dove's. His whole make-up of 
form and person, looks and manner had a kind of gentle and 
soothing magnetism about it that drew every one to him and 
made them love, respect, and honor him. I fell in love with the 
old gentleman and felt like going home with him. I know I 
have never seen a finer looking man, nor one with more kind 
and gentle features and manners. His horse was standing nip- 
ping the grass, and when I saw that he was getting ready to start 
I ran and caught his horse and led him up to him. He took the 
reins of the bridle in his hand and said, "thank you, my son,"^ 
rode off, and my heart went with him. There was none of hi& 
stalF with him ; he had on no sword or pistol, or anything to 
show his rank. The only thing that 1 remember he had was an 
opera-glass hung over his shoulder by a strap. 

Leaving Big Springs, we marched on day by day, across Green- 
brier and Gauley rivers to Huntersville, a little but sprightly 
town hid in the very fastnesses of the mountains. The people 
live exceedingly well in these mountains. They had plenty of 
honey and buckwheat cakes, and»they called butter-milk "sour- 
milk," and sour-milk wern't fit for pigs; they couldn't see how 
folks drank sour-milk. But sour-krout was good. Everything-^ 
seemed to grow in the mountains — potatoes, Irish and sweet ; 
onions, snap beans, peas — though the country was very thinly 
populated. Deer, bear, and foxes, as well as wild turkeys, and 
rabbits and squirrels abounded everywhere. Apples and peaches 
were abundant, and everywhere the people had apple-butter for 
every meal; and occasionally we would come across a small-sized 
distillery, which we would at once start to doing duty. We 
drank the singlings while they were hot, but like the old woman 
who could not eat corn bread until she heard that they made 
whisky out of corn, then she could manage to " worry a little of 
it down ;" so it was with us and the singlings. 

From this time forward, we were ever on the march — tramp,^ 
tramp, tramp — always on the march. Lee's corps, Stonewall 
Jackson's division — I refer you to the histories for the marches^ 



20 APRIL 14, 1861, vs. APRIL 14, 1882. 

ai)d tramps made by these commanders the first year of the war. 
Well, we followed them. 

CHEAT MOUNTAIN. 

One evening about 4 o'clock, the drummers of the regiment 
began to beat their drums as hard as they could stave, and I saw 
men running in every direction, and the camp soon became one 
scene of hurry and excitement. I asked some one what all this 
hubbub meant. He looked at me with utter astonishment. I 
saw soldiers running to their tents and grabbing their guns and 
cartridge-boxes and hurry out again, the drums still rolling and 
rattling. I asked several other fellows what in the dickens did 
all this mean? Finally one fellow, who seemed scared almost 
out of his wits, answered between a ^vail and a shriek, "Why, 
sir, they are beating the long roll." Says I, " What is the long 
roll for?" " The long roll, man, the long roll ! Get your gun ; 
they are beating the long roll !" This was all the information 
that I could get. It was the first, last, and only long roll that I 
ever heard. But, then everything was new, and Colonel Maney, 
ever prompt, ordered the assembly. Without any command or 
bugle sound, or anything, every soldier was in his place. Tents, 
knapsacks and everything was left indiscriminately. 

We were soon on the march, and we marched on and on and 
on. About night it began to rain. All our blankets were back 
in camp, but we were expecting every minute to be ordered into 
action. That night we came to Mingo Flats. The rain still 
poured. We had no rations to eat and nowhere to sleep. Some 
of us got some fence rails and piled them together and worried 
through the night as best we could. The next morning we were 
ordered to march again, but we soon began to get hungry, and 
we had about half halted and about not halted at all. Some of 
the boys were picking blackberries. The main body of the regi- 
ment was marching leisurely along the road, when bang, debang, 
debang, bang, and a volley of buck and ball came hurling right 
through the two advance companies of the regiment — companies 
H and K. We had marched into a Yankee ambuscade. 



APRIL 14, 1861, vs. APRIL 14, 1882. 21 

( 

All at once everything was a scene of consternation and con- 
fusion ; no one seemed equal to the emergency. We did not 
know whether to run or stand, when Captain Field gave the 
command to fire and charge the bushes. We charged the bushes 
and saw the Yankees running through them, and we fired on 
them as they retreated. I do not know how many Yankees were 
killed, if any. Our company (H) had one man killed, Pat Han- 
ley, an Irishman, who had joined our company at Chattanooga. 
Hugh Padgett and Dr. Hooper, and perhaps one or two others, 
were wounded. 

After the fighting was over, where, O where was 'all the fine 
rigging heretofore on our officers? They could not be seen. 
Corporals, Sergeants, Lieutpnants, Captains, all hid torn all the 
fine lace off their clothing. I noticed that at the time and 
was surprised and hurt. I asked several of them why they had 
torn off the insignia of their rank, and they always answered, 
"Humph, you think that I was going to be a target for the Yan- 
kees to shoot at?" You see this was our first battle, and the 
officers had not found out that minnie as well as cannon balls 
were blind ; that they had no eyes and could not see. They 
thought that the balls would hunt for them and not hurt the 
privates. I always shot at privates. It was they that did the 
shooting and killing, and if I could kill or wound a private, why, 
my chances were so much the better. I always looked upon 
officers as harmless personages. Colonel Field, I suppose, was 
about the only Colonel of the war that did as much shooting as 
the private soldier. If I shot at an officer, it was at long range, 
but when we got down to close quarters I always tried to kill 
those that were trying to kill me. 

SEWELL MOUNTAIN. 

From Cheat Mountain we went by forced marches day and 
night, over hill and everlasting mountains, and through lovely 
and smiling valleys, sometimes the country rich and productive, 
sometimes rough and broken, through towns and villages, the 
names oi which I have forgotten, crossing streams and rivers. 



22 APRIL 14, 1861, vs. APRIL 14, 1882. 

but continuing our never ceasing, unending march, passing 
through the Kanawha Valley and by the salt-works, and nearly 
back to the Ohio river, when we at last reached Sewell Moun- 
tain. Hero we found General John B. Floyd strongly entrenched 
and fortified and facing the advance of the Federal army. Two 
days before our arrival he had charged and captured one line of 
the enemy's works. I know nothing of the battle. See the his- 
tories for' that. I only write from memory, and that was twenty 
years ago, but I remember reading in the newspapers at that time 
of some distinguished man, whether he was Captain, Colonel or 
■General, I have forgotten, but I know the papers said " he sought 
the bauble, reputation, at the cannon's mouth, and went to glory 
from the death-bed of fame." I remember it sounded gloriously 
in print. Now, reader, this is all I know of this grand battle. 
I only recollect what the newspapers said about it, and you know 
that a newspaper always tells the truth. I also know that beef 
livers sold for one dollar apiece in gold; and here is where we 
were first paid off in Confederate money. Remaining here a few 
days, we commenced our march again. 

Sewell Mountain, Harrisonburg, Lewlsburg, Kanawha Salt- 
works, first four, forward and back, seemed to be the programme 
of that day. Rosencrans, that wiley old fox, kept Lee and Jack- 
son both busy trying to catch him, but Rosey would not be 
caught. March, march, march ; tramp, tramp, tramp, back 
througli the valley to Huntersville and Warm Springs, and up 
through the most beautiful valley — the Shenandoah — in the 
world, passing towns and elegant farms and beautiful residences, 
rich pastures and abundant harvests, which a Federal General 
(Fighting Joe Hooker), later in the war, ordered to be so sacked 
and destroyed that a "crow passing over this valley would have 
to carry his rations." Passing on, we 'arrived at Winchesler. 
The first night we arrived at this place, the wind blew a perfect 
hurricane, and every tent and marquee in Lee's and Jackson's 
army was blown down. This is the first sight we had of Stone- 
wall Jackson, riding upon his old sorrel horse, his feet drawn up 
as if his stirrups were much too short for him, and his old dingy 
military cap hanging well forward over his head, and his nose 



APRIL 14, 1861, vs. APRIL 14, 1882. 23 

erected in the air, his old rusty sabre rattling by his side. This 
is the way the grand old hero of a hundred battles looked. His 
spirit is yonder with the blessed ones that have gone before, but 
his history is one that the dountry will ever be proud of, and his 
memory will be cherished and loved by the old soldiers who fol- 
lowed him through the war. 

ROMNEY. 

Our march to and from Romney was in midwinter, in the 
month of January, 1862. It was the coldest winter known to 
the oldest inhabitant of these regions. Situated in the most 
mountainous country in Virginia, and away up near the Mary- 
land and Pennsylvania line, the storm king seemed to rule in all 
of his majesty and power. Snow and rain and sleet and tempest 
seemed to ride and laugh and shriek and howl and moan and 
groan in all their fury and wrath. The soldiers on this march 
got very much discouraged and disheartened. As they marched 
along icicles hung from their clothing, guns, and knapsacks ; many 
were badly frost bitten, and I heard of many freezing to death 
along the road side. My feet peeled off like a peeled onion on 
that march, and I have not recovered from its eiJects to this day. 
The snow and ice on the ground being packed by the soldiers 
tramping, the horses hitched to the artillery wagons were contin- 
ually slipping and sliding and falling and wounding themselves 
and sometimes killing their riders. The wind whistling with a 
keen and piercing shriek, seemed as if they would freeze the 
marrow in our bones. The soldiers in the whole array got rebel- 
lious — almost mutinous — and would curse and abuse Stonewall 
Jackson; in fact, they called him "Fool Tom Jackson." They 
blamed him for the cold weather; they blamed him for every- 
thing, and when he would ride by a regiment they would take 
occasion, sotto voce, to abuse him, and call him " Fool Tom Jack- 
son," and loud enough for him to hear. Soldiers from all com- 
mands would fall out of ranks and stop by the road side and 
swear that they would not follow such, a leader any longer. 

When Jackson got to Romney, and was ready to strike Banks 



24 APRIL 14, 1861, vs. Ai'RiL 14, 1882. 

and Meade in a vital j)oint, and wliicli would have changed, per- 
haps, the destiny of the war and the South, his troops refused to 
march any further, and he turned, marched back to Winchester 
and tendered his resignation to th» authorities at Richmond. 
But the great leader's resignation was not accepted. It was in 
store for him to do some of the hardest fighting and greatest gen- 
eralship that was done during the war. 

One night at this place (Romney), I was sent forward with two 
other soldiers across the wire bridge as picket. One of them 
was named Schwartz and the other Pfifer — he called it Fifer, but 
spelled it with a P — both full-blooded Dutchmen, and belonging 
to Company E, or the German Yagers, Captain Harsh, or, as he 
was more generally called, "God-for-dam." 

When we had crossed the bridge and taken our station for the 
night, I saw another snow storm was coming. The zig-zag 
lightnings began to flare and flash, and sheet after sheet of wild 
flames seemed to burst right over our heads and were hissing 
around us. The very elements seemed to be one aurora borealis 
with continued lightning. Streak after streak of lightning seemed 
to be piercing each the other, the one from the north and the 
other from the south. The white clouds would roll up, looking 
like huge snow balls, encircled with living fires. The earth and 
hills and trees were covered with snow, and the lightnings seemed 
to be playing " King, King Canico" along its crusted surface. 
If it thundered at all, it seemed to be between a groaning and a 
rumbling sound. The trees and hills seemed white with livid 
fire. I can remember that storm now as the grandest picture 
that has ever made any impression on my memory. As soon as 
it quit lightning, the most blinding snow storm fell that I ever 
saw. It fell so thick and fast that I got hot. I felt like pulling 
off my coat. I was freezing. The winds sounded like sweet 
music. I felt grand, glorious, peculiar; beautiful things began 
to play and dance around my head, and I supposed I must have 
dropped to sleep or something, when I felt Schwartz grab me, 
and give me a shake, and at the same time raised his gun and 
fired, and yelled out at the top of his voice, "Here is your mule." 
The next instant a volley of minnie balls was scattering the snow 



APRIL 14, 1861, vs. APRIL 14, 1882. 25 

all around us. I tried to walk, but my pants and boots were 
stiff frozen, and the blood had ceased to circulate in my lower 
limbs. But Schwartz kept on firing, and at every fire he would 
yell out, " Yer is yer mool !" Pfifer could not speak English, and 
I reckon he said " Here. is your mule " in Dutch. About the same 
time we were hailed from three Confederate officers, at full gallop 
right toward us, not to shoot. And as they galloped up to us 
and thundered right across the bridge, we discovered it was 
Stonewall Jackson and two of his staff. At the same time the 
Yankee cavalry charged us, and we, too, ran back across the 
bridge. 

STANDING PICKET ON THE POTOMAC. 

Leaving Winchester, we continued up the valley. 

The night before the attack on Bath or Berkly Springs, there 
fell the largest snow I ever saw. 

Stonewell Jackson" had seventeen thousand soldiers at his com- 
mand. The Yankees were fortified at Bath. An attack was or- 
dered, our regiment marched upon top of a mountain overlook- 
ing the movements of both armies in the valley below. About 4 
o'clock one grand charge and rush was made, and the Yankees 
were routed and skedaddled. 

By some circumstance orj other. Lieutenant J. Lee Bullock 
came in command of the First Tennessee Regiment. But Lee 
was not a graduate of West Point, you see. 

The Federals had left some spiked batteries on the hill side, as 
we were informed by an old citizen, and Lee, anxious to capture 
a battery, gave the new and peculiar command of, "■ Soldiers, you 
are ordered to go forward and capture a battery; just piroute up 
that hill; piroute, march. Forward, men; piroute carefully." 
The boys " pirouted " as best they could. It may have been a 
new command, and not laid down in Hardee's or Scott's tactics ; 
but Lee was speaking plain English, and we understood his mean- 
ing perfectly, and even at this late day I have no doubt that 
every soldier who heard the command thought it a legal and 
technical term used by military graduates to go forward and cap- 
ture a battery. 
3 



26 APRIL 14, 1861,. vs. APRIL 14, 1882. 

At this place (Bath), a beautiful young lady ran across the 
street. I have seen many beautiful and pretty women in my life, 
but she was the prettiest one I ever saw. Were you to ask any 
member of the First Tennessee Regiment who was the prettiest 
woman he ever saw, he would unhesitatingly answer that he saw 
her at Berkly Springs during the war, and he would continue 
the tale, and tell you of Lee Bullock's piroute and Stonewall 
Jackson's charge. 

We rushed down to the big spring bursting out of the moun- 
tain side, and it was hot enough to cook an egg. Never did I 
see soldiers more surprised. The water was so hot we could not 
drink it. 

The snow covered the ground and was still falling. 

That night I stood picket on the Potomac with a detail of the 
Third Arkansas Regiment. I remember how sorry I felt for the 
poor fellows, because th»'y had enlisted for the war, and we for 
only twelve months. Before nightfall I took in every object and 
commenced ray weary vigils. I had to stand all night. I could 
hear the rumblings of the Federal artillery and wagons, and 
hear the low shuffling sound made by troops on the march. The 
snow came pelting down as large as goose eggs. About midnight 
the snow ceased to fall, and became quiet. Now and then the 
snow would fall off the bushes and make a terrible noise. While I 
was peering through the darkness, my eyes suddenly fell upon the 
outlines of a man. The more I looked the more I was convinced 
that it was a Yankee picket. I could see his hat and coat — yes, 
see his gun. I. was sure that it was a Yankee picket. What 
was I to do? The relief was several hundred yards in the rear. 
The more I looked the more sure I was. At last a cold sweat broke 
out all over my body. Turkey bumps rose. I summoned all 
the nerves and bravery that I could command, and said : ** Halt ! 
who goes there?" There being no response, I became resolute. 
I did not wish to fire and arouse the camp, but I marched right 
up to it and stuck my bayonet through and through it. It was 
a stump. I tell the above, because it illustrates a part of many 
a private's recollections of the war ; in fact, a part of the hard- 
ships and suffering that they go through. 



APRii. 14, 1861, vs. APRIL 14, 1882. 27 

One secret of Stonewall Jackson's success was that he was such 
a strict disciplinarian. He did his duty himself and was ever at 
his post, and he expected and demanded of everj'body to do the 
same thing. He would have a man shot at the drop of a hat, 
and drop it himself. The first army order that was ever read to 
us after being attached to his corps, was the shooting to death by 
musketry of two men who had stopped on the battlefield to carry 
off a wounded comrade. It was read to us in line of battle at 
Winchester. 

SCHWARTZ AND PFIFER. 

At Valley mountain the finest and fattest beef I ever saw was 
issued to the soldiers, and it was the custom to use tallow for lard. 
Tallow made good shortening if the biscuits were eaten hot, but 
if allowed to get cold they had a strong taste of tallow in their 
flavor that did not taste like the flavor of vanilla or lemon in ice 
cream and strawberries ; and biscuits fried in tallow were some- 
thing upon the principle of 'possum and sweet potatoes. Well, 
Pfifer had got the fat from the kidneys of two hind-quarters and 
made a cake of tallow weighing about twenty-five pounds. He 
wrapped it up and put it carefully away in his knapsack. When 
the assembly sounded for the march, Pfifer strapped on his knap- 
sack. It was pretty heavy, but Pfifer was " well heeled." He 
knew the good frying he would get out of that twenty-five pounds 
of nice fat tallow, and he was willing to tug and toil all day over 
a muddy and sloppy road for his anticipated hot tallow gravy for 
supper. We made a long and hard march that day, and about 
dark went into camp. Fires were made up and water brought, 
and the soldiers began to get supper. Pfifer was in a good 
humor. He went to get that twenty-five pounds of good, nice> 
fat tallow out of his knapsack, and on opening it, lo and be- 
hold! it was a rock that weighed about thirty pounds. Pfi- 
fer was struck dumb with amazement. He looked bewildered, 
yea, even silly. I do not think he cursed, because he could 
not do the subject justice. He looked at that rock with the 
death stare of a doomed man. But he suspected Schwartz. 
He went to Schwartz's knapsack, and there he found his cake 



28 APRIL 14, 1861, V8. AJ>RiL 14, 1882. 

of tallow. He went to Schwartz and would have killed him 
had not soldiers interfered and pulled him off* by main force. 
His eyes blazed and looked like those of a tiger when he has just 
torn his victim limb from limb. I would not have been in 
Schwartz's shoes for all tiie tallow in every beef in Virginia. 
Captain Harsh made Schwartz carry that rock for two days to 
pacify Pfifer. 

THE COURT-MARTIAL. 

One incident came under my observation while in \ irginia 
that made a deep impression on my mind. One morning, about 
daybreak, the new guard was relieving the old guard. It -was a 
bitter cold morning, and on coming to our extreme outpost, I saw 
a soldier — he was but a mere boy — either dead or asleep at his 
post. The sergeant commanding the relief went up to him and 
shook him. He immediately woke up and seemed very much 
frightened. He was fast aeleep at his post. The sergeant had 
him arrested and carried to the guard-house. 

Two days afterwards I received notice to appear before a court- 
martial at nine. I was summoned to appear as a witness against 
him for being asleep at his post and in the enemy's country. An 
example had to be made of some one. He had to be tried for his 
life. The court-martial was made up of seven or eight officers of 
a different regiment. The witnesses all testified against him, 
charges and specifications were read, and by th? rules of war he 
had to be shot to death by musketry. The Advocate-general for 
the prosecution made the opening speech. He read the law in a 
plain, straightforward manner, and said that for a soldier to go to 
sleep at his post of duty, while so much depended upon him, was 
the most culpable of all crimes, and the most inexcusable. I. 
trembled in my boots, for on several occasions I knew I had tak- 
en a short nap, even on the very outpost. The Advocate-gen- 
eral went on further to say, that the picket was the sentinel that 
held the lives of his countrymen and the liberty of his country in 
his hands, and it mattered not what may have been his record in 
the past. At one moment he had forfeited his life to his country. 
For discipline's sake, if for nothing else, you gentlemen that make 



APRIL 14, 1861, vs. APRIL 14, 1882. 29 

up this court-martial should find the prisoner guilty. It is nec- 
essary for you to be firm, gentlemen, ior upon your decision de- 
pends the safety of our country. When he had finished, thinks I 
to myself, "Gone up the spout, sure; we will have a first-class 
funeral here before night." 

Well, as to the lawyer who defended him, I cannot now remem- 
ber his speeches; but he represented a fair haired boy leaving his 
home and family, telling his father and aged mother and darling 
little sister farewell, and spoke of his proud step, though a mere 
boy, going to defend his country and his loved ones; but at one 
weak moment, when nature, tasked and taxed beyond the bounds 
of human endurance, could stand no longer, and upon the still 
and silent picket post, when the whole army was hushed in slum- 
ber, what wonder is it that he, too, may have fallen asleep while 
at his post of duty. 

Some of you gentlemen of this court-martial may have sous, 
may have brothers ; yes, even fathers in the army. W^here are 
they to-night ? You love your children, or your brother or fath- 
er. This mere youth has a father and mother and sister away 
back in Tennessee. They are willing to give him to his country. 
But oh ! gentlemen, let the word go back to Tennessee that he 
died upon the battlefield, and not by the hands of his own com- 
rades for being asleep at his post of duty. I cannot now remem- 
ber the speeches, but one thing I do know, that he was acquitted, 
and I was glad of it. 

" THE DEATH WATCH." 

One more scene I can now remember. Kind friends — you that 
know nothing of a soldier's life — I ask you in all candor not to 
doubt the following lines in this sketch. You have no doubt 
read of the old Roman soldier found amid the ruius of Pompeii, 
who had stood there for sixteen hundred years, and when he was 
excavated was found at his post with his gun clasped in his skele- 
ton hands. You believe this because it is written in history. I 
have heard politicians tell it. I have heard it told from the sa- 
cred desk. It is true ; no one doubts it. 

Now, were I to tell something that happened in this nineteenth 



30 APRIL 14, 1861, vs. APRIL 14, 1882. 

century exactly similar, you would l.ardly believe it. But wheth- 
er you believe it or not, it is for you to say. At a little village 
called Hampshire Crossing, our regiment was ordered to go to a 
little stream called St. John's Run, to relieve the 14th Georgia 
regiment and the 3rd Arkansas. I cannot tell the facts as I de- 
sire to. In fact my hand trembles so, and my feelings are so 
overcome, that it is hard for me to write at all. But \ye went to 
the place that we were ordered fo go to, and when we arrived 
there we found the guard sure enough. If I remember correctly, 
there were just eleven of them. Some were sitting down and 
some were lying down ; hut each and every one was as cold and 
as hard frozen as the icicles that hung from their hands and faces 
and clothing — dead ! They had died at their post of duty. Two 
of them, a little in advance of the others, were standing with their 
guns in their hands, as cold and as hard frozen as a monument of 
marble — standing sentinel with loaded guns in their frozen hands ! 
The tale is told. Were they true men ? Does He who noteth the 
sparrow's fall, and numbers the hairs of our heads, have any in- 
terest in one like ourselves? Yes; He doeth all things well* 
Not a sparrow falls to the ground without His consent. 

VIRGINIA, FAREWELL. 

After having served through all the valley campaign, and 
marched throiigh all the wonders of Northwest Virginia, and be- 
ing associated with the army of Virginia, it was with sorrow and 
regret that we bade farewell to "Old Virginia's shore," to go to 
other fields of blood and carnage and death. We had learned to 
love Virginia ; we love her now. The people were kind and good 
to us. They divided their last crust of bread and rasher of ba- 
con with us. We loved Lee, we loved Jackson ; we loved the 
name, association and people of Virginia. Hatton, Forbes, An- 
derson, Gilliam, Govan, Loring, Ashby and Schumaker were 
names with which we had been long associated. We hated to 
leave all our old comrades behind us. We felt that we were 
proving recreant to the instincts of our own manhood, and that 
we were leaving those who had stood by us on the march and bat- 



APRIL 14, 1861, vs. APRIL 14, 1882. 81 

tlefield when they most needed our help. We knew the 7th and 
14th Tennessee regiments; we knew the 3rd Arkansas, the 14th 
Georgia, and 42nd Virginia regiments. Their names were as fa- 
miliar as household words. We were about to leave the bones of 
Joe Bynum and Gus Allen and Patrick Hanly. We were 
about to bid farewell to every tender association that we had 
formed with the good people of Virginia, and to our old associ- 
ates among the soldiers of the Grand Army of Virginia. Vir- 
ginia, farewell! Away back yonder, in good old Tennessee, our 
homes and loved ones are being robbed and insulted, our fields 
laid waste, our cities sacked, and our people slain. Duty as well 
as patriotism calls us back to our native home, to try and defend 
it, as best we can, against an invading army of our then enemies; 
and, Virginia, once more we bid you a long farewell ! 



32 SHILOH. 



CHAP. II.— SHILOH. 



SHILOH. 



This was the first big battle in which our regiment had ever 
been engaged. I do not pretend to tell of what command distin- 
guished itself; of heroes; of blood and wounds ; of shrieks and 
groans; of brilliant charges; of cannon captured, etc. I was but 
a private soldier, and if I happened to look to see if I could find 
out anything, " Eyes right, guide center," was the order. " Close 
up, guide right, halt, forward, right oblique, left oblique, 
halt, forward, guide center, eyes right, dress up promptly in 
the rear, steady, double quick, charge bayonets, fire at will," 
is about all that a private soldier ever knows of a battle. He 
can see the smoke rise and the flash of the enemy's guns, and 
he can hear the whistle of the minnie and cannon balls, but he 
has got to load and shoot as hard as he can tear and ram car- 
tridge, or he will soon find out, like the Irishman who had been 
shooting blank cartridges, when a ball happened to strike him, 
and he halloed out, " Faith, Pat, and be jabbers, them fellows are 
shooting bullets." But I nevertheless remember many things 
that came under my observation in this battle. I remember a 
man by the name of Smith stepping deliberately out of the ranks 
and shooting his finger off to keep out of the fight ; of another 
poor fellow who was accidentally shot and killed by the discharge 
of another person's gun, and of others suddenly taken sick with colic. 
Our regiment was the advance guard on Saturday evening, and 
did a little skirmishing ; but General Gladden's brigade passed us 
and assumed a position in our immediate front. About daylight 
on Sunday morning, Chalmers' brigade relieved Gladden's. As 
Gladden rode by us, a courier rode U{) and told him something. 
I do not know what it was, but I heard Gladden say, " Tell Gen- 
eral Bragg that I have as keen a scent for the Yankees as Gen- 
eral Chalmers has." 



SHILOH. 33 

On Sunday morning, a clear, beautiful, and still day, the order 
was given for the whole army to advance, and to attack immedi- 
ately. We were supporting an Alabama brigade. The fire 
opened — bang, bang, bang, a rattle de bang, bang, bang, a boom, 
de bang, bang, bang, boom, bang, boom, bang, boom, bang, boom, 
bang, boom, whirr-siz-siz-siz — a ripping, roaring boom, bang! , 
The air was full of balls and deadly missiles. The litter corps 
was carrying off the dying and wounded. We could hear the 
shout of the charge and the incessant roar of the t;uns, the rattle 
of the musketry, and knew that the contending forces were en- 
gaged in a breast to breast struggle. But cheering news con- 
tinued to come back. Every one who passed would be hailed 
with, " Well, what news from the front ?" " Well, boys, we are 
driving 'em. We have captured all their encampments, every- 
thing that they had, and all their provisions and army stores, and 
everything." 

As we were advancing to the attack and to support the Ala- 
bama brigade in our front, and which had given way and were 
running wildly through our lines, routed and seemingly panic- 
stricken with fear, some of the boys of our regiment would laugh 
at them, and ask what they were running for, and would com- 
mence to say "Flicker! flicker! flicker!" like the bird called 
the yellowhammer, "Flicker! flicker! flicker!" As we ad- 
vanced, on the edge of the battlefield, we saw a big fat colonel of 
the 23rd Tennessee regiment badly wounded, whose name, if I 
remember correctly, was Matt. Martin. He said to us, " Give 
'em goss, boys. That 's right, my brave First Tennessee. Give 
'em Hail Columbia !" We halted but a moment, and said I, 
" Colonel, where are you wounded ?" He answered in a deep bass 
voice, " My son, I am wounded in the arm, in the leg, in the 
head, in the body, and in another place which I have a delicacy 
in mentioning." That is what the gallant old colonel said. Ad- 
vancing a little further on, we saw General Alb'ert Sidney John- 
son surrounded by his staff and Governor Harris, of Tennessee. 
We saw some little commotion among those who surrounded him, 
but we did not know at the time that he was dead. The fact was 
kept from the troops. 



34 ' SHILOH. 

About noon a courier dashed up and ordered us to go forward 
and support General Bragg's center. We had to pass over the 
ground where troops had been fighting all day. 

I had heard and read of battlefields, seen pictures of battlefields, 
of horses and men, of cannon and wagons, all jJuibled together, 
• while the ground was strewn with dead and dying and wounded, 
but I must confcj-s that I never realized the " pomp and circum- 
stance " of the thing called glorious war until I saw this. Men 
were lying in every conceivable position ; the dead lying with 
their eyes wide open, the wounded begging piteously for help, and 
some waving their hats and shouting to us to go forward. It all 
seemed to me a dream ; I seemed to be in a sort of haze, when 
siz, siz, siz, the minnie balls from the Yankee line began to whis- 
tle around our ears, and I thought of the Irishman when he said, 
" Sure enough, those fellows are shooting bullets ! " 

Down would drop first one fellow and then another, either killed 
or wounded, when we were ordered to charge bayonets. I had 
been feeling mean all the morning as if I had stolen a sheep, but 
when the order to charge was given, I got happy. I felt happier 
than a fellow does when he professes religion at a big Methodist 
camp-meeting. I shouted. It was fun then. Everybody looked 
happy. We were crowding them. One more charge, then their 
lines waver and break. They retreat in wild confusion. We 
were jubilant ; we were triumphant. Officers could not curb the 
men to keep in line. Discharge after discharge was poured into 
the retreating line. The Federal dead and wounded covered the 
ground. 

When in the very midst of our victory, here comes an order to 
halt. What! halt after to-day's victory ? Sidney Johnson killed. 
General Gladden killed, and a host of generals and other l^rave 
men killed, and the whole Yankee army^ in full retreat. 

Those four letters, h-a-l-t, O, how harsh they did break upon 
our ears. The victory was complete, but the word " halt '' turned 
victory into defeat. 

The soldiers had passed through the Yankee camps and saw all 
the good things that they had to eat in their sutlers' stores and 



SHILOH. 35 

officers' marquees, and it was but a short time before every sol- 
dier was rummaging to see what he could find. 

The harvest was great and the laborers were not few. 

The negro boys, who were with their young masters as serv- 
ants, got rich. Greenbacks were plentiful, good clothes were 
plentiful, rations were not in demand. The boys were in clover. 

This was Sunday. 

On Monday the tide was reversed. 

Now, those Yankees were whipped, fairly whipped, and ac- 
cording to all the rules of war they ought to have retreated. But 
they didn't. Flushed with their victories at Fort Henry and 
Fort Dotielson and the capture of Nashville, and the whole State 
ol Tennessee having fallen into their hands, victory was again to 
perch upon their banners, for Buell's army, by forced marches, 
had come to Grant's assistance at the eleventh hour. 

Gun boats and transports were busily crossing Buell's army all 
of Sunday night. We could hfar their boats ringing their bells, 
and hear the puff of smoke and steam from their boilers. Our 
regiment was the advance outpost, and we saw the skirmish line 
of the Federals advancing and then their main line and then their 
artillery. We made a good fight on Monday morning, and I was 
taken by surprise when the order came for us to retreat instead of 
advance. But as I said before, reader, a private soldier is but an 
automaton, and knows nothing of what is going on among the 
Generals, and I am only giving the chronicles of little things and 
events that came under my own observation as I saw them then 
and remember them now. Should you desire to find out more 
about the battle, I refer you to history. 

One incident I recollect very well ? A Yankee colonel, riding 
a fine gray mare, was sitting on his horse looking at our advance 
as if we were on review. W. H. rushed forward and grabbed 
his horse by the bridle, telling him at the same time to surrender. 
The Yankee seized the reins, set himself back in the saddle, put 
the muzzle of his pistol in W. H.'s face and fired. About the 
time he pulled trigger, a stray ball from some direction struck 
him in the side and he fell off* dead, and his horse becoming 



36 SHILOH. 

frightened, galloped oft', dragging him through the Confederate 
lines. His pistol had missed its aim. 

I have heard hundreds of old soldiers tell of the amount of 
greenback money they saw and. picked up on the battlefield of 
Shiloh, but they thought it valueless and did not trouble them- 
selves with bringing it oft" with them. 

One fellow, a courier, who had had his horse killed, got on a 
mule he had captured, and in the last charge, before the final and 
fatal halt was made, just clmrged right ahead by his lone self, and 
the soldiers said, "Just look at that fcrave man, charging right in 
the jaws of death." He began to seesaw the mule and grit his 
teeth, and finally yelled out, " It arn't me, boys, it 's this blarsted 
old mule. Whoa! Whoa!" 

On Monday morning I too captured me a mule. He was not 
a fast mule, and I soon found out that he thought he knew as 
much as I did. He was wise in his own conceit. He had a pro- 
pensity to take every hog path he came to. All the bombasting 
that I could give him would not make him accelerate his speed. 
If blood makes speed, I do not suppose he had a drop of any 
kind in him. If I wanted him to go on one side of the road he 
was sure to be possessed of an equal desire to go on the other side. 
Finally I and my mule fell out. I got a big hickory and would 
frail him over the head, and he would only shake his head and 
flop his ears, and seem to say, " Well, now, you think you are 
smart, don't you ?" He was a resolute mule, slow to anger, and 
would have made an excellent merchant to refuse bad pay, or I 
will pay your credit, for his whole composition seemed to be made 
up of the one word — no. I frequently thought it would be pleas- 
ant to split the difterence with that mule, and I would gladly 
have done so if I could have gotten one-half of his no. Me and 
mule worried along until we came to a creek. Mule did not 
desire to cross, while I was trying to persuade him with a big 
stick, a rock in his ear, and a twister on his nose. The caisson of 
a battery was about to cross. The driver said, "I'll take your 
mule over for you." So he got a large two inch rope, tied one end 
around the mule's neck and the other to the caisson, and ordered 
the driver to whip uj). The mule was loth to take to the water. 



SHILOH. 37 

He was no Baptist, and did not believe in immersion, and had 
his views about crossing streams, but the rope began to tighten > 
the mule to squeal out his protestations against such villainous 
proceedings. The rope, however, was stronger than the mule' 
" no," and he was finally prevailed upon by the strength of the 
rope to cross the creek. On my taking the rope off he shook 
himself and seemed to say, "You think that you are mighty 
smart folks, but you are a leetle too smart." I gave it up that 
that mule's "no" was a little stronger than my determination. 
He seemed to be in deep meditation. I got on him again, when 
all of a sudden he lifted his head, pricked up his ears, began to 
champ his bit, gave a little squeal, got a little faster, and finally 
into a gallop and then a run. He seemed all at once to have re- 
membered or to have forgotten something, and was now making 
up for lost time. With all my pulling and seesawing and strength 
I could not stop him until he brought up with me at Corinth, 
Mississippi. 



38 CORINTH. 



CHAP. III.— CORINTH. 



CORINTH. 



Well, here we were, again " reorganizing," and aftei our lax 
discipline on the road to and from Virginia, and after a big bat- 
tle, which always disorganizes an army, what wonder is it that 
some men had to be shot, merely for discipline's sake? And 
what wonder that General Bragg's name became a terror to de- 
serters and evil doers ? Men were shot by scores, and no wonder 
the army had to be reorganized. Soldiers had enlisted for twelve 
months only, and had faithfully complied with their volunteer 
obligations ; the terms for which they had enlisted had expired, 
and they naturally looked upon it that they had a right to go 
home. They had done their duty faithfully and well. They 
wanted to see their families ; in fact, wanted to go home anyhow. 
War had become a reality ; they were tired of it. A law had 
been passed by the^ Confederate States Congress called the con- 
script act. A soldier had no right to volunteer and to choose the 
branch of service he preferred. He was conscripted. 

From this time on till the end of the war, a soldier was simply 
a machine, a conscript. Tt was mighty rough on rebels. We 
cursed the war, we cursed Bragg, we cursed the Southern Confed- 
eracy. All our pride and valor had gone, and we were sick of 
war and the Southern Confederacy. 

A law was made by the Confederate Slates Congress about 
this time allowing every person who owned twenty negroes 
to go home. It gave us the blues ; we wanted twenty ne- 
groes. Negro property suddenly became very valuable, and 
there was raised the howl of '' rich man's war, poor man's fight." 
The glory of the war, the glory of the South, the glory and the 
pride of our volunteers had no charms for the conscript. 

We were directed to re-elect our officers, and the country was 
surprised to see the sample of a conscript's choice. The conscript 



CORINTH. 39 

had no choice. He was callous, and indifferent whether he had a 
captain or not. Those who were at first officers had resigned and 
gone home, because they were officers. The poor private, a con- 
temptible conscript, was left to howl and gnash his teeth. The 
war might as well have ended then and there. The boys were 
" hacked," nay, whipj)ed. They were shorn of the locks of their 
glory. They had but one ambition now, and that was to get out 
of the army in some way or other. They wanted to join the 
cavalry or artillery or home guards or pioneer corps or to be " yal- 
ler dogs," or anything. 

[The average staff officer and courier were always called " yaller 
dogs," and were regarded as non-combatants and a nuisance, and 
the average private never let one pass without whistling and call- 
ing dogs. In fact, the General had to issue an army order threat- 
ening punishment for the ridicule hurled at staff" officers and 
couriers. They were looked upon as simply " hangers on," or in 
other words, as yellow sheep-killing dogs, that if you would say 
" booh " at, would yelp and get under their master's heels. Mike 
Snyder was General George Maney's " yaller dog," and I believe 
that here is where Joe Jefferson, in Rip Van Winkle, got the 
name of Rip's dog Snyder. At all times of day or night you 
could hear, '* Wheer, hyat, hyat, haer, haer, hugh, Snyder, whoo- 
pee, hyat, M'hoopee, Snyder, here, here," when a staff officer or 
courier happened to pass. The reason of this was that the private 
knew and fielt that there was just that much more loading, shoot- 
ing and fighting for him ; and there are the fewest number of in- 
stances on record where a staff officer or courier ever fired a gun 
in their country's cause ; and even at this late day, when I hear an 
old soldier telling of being on some General's staff, I always think 
of the letter " E." In fact, later in the war I was detailed as spec- 
ial courier and staff officer for General Hood, which office I held 
three days. But while I held the office, in passing a guard I al- 
ways told them I was on Hood's staff", and ever afterwards I 
made those three days' staff business last me the balance of the 
war. I could pass any guard in the army by using the magic 
words, " staff (»fficer." It beat all the countersigns ever invented. 
It was the "open sesame" of war and discipline.] 



40 COKINTH. 

Their last hope had set. They hated war. To their minds the 
South was a great tyrant, and the Confederacy a fraud. They 
were deserting by thousands. They had no love or respect for 
General Bragg. When men Avere to be shot or whipped, the 
whole army was marched to the horrid scene to see a poor trem- 
bling wretch tied to a post and a platoon of twelve men drawn up 
in line to put him to death, and the hushed command of "Ready, 
aim, fire!" would make the soldier, or conscript, I should say, 
loathe the very name of Southern Confederacy. And when some 
miserable wretch was to be whipped. and branded for being absent 
ten days without leave, we had to see him kneel down and have 
his head shaved as smooth and slick as a peeled onion, and then 
stripped to the naked skin. Then a strapping fellow with a big 
rawhide would make the blood flow and spurt at every lick, the 
wretch begging and howling like a hound, and then he was branded 
with a red hot iron with the letter D on both hips, when he was 
marched through the army to the music of the "Rogue's March." 
It was enough. None of General Bragg's soldiers ever loved him. 
They had no faith in his ability as a General. He was looked 
upon as a merciless tyrant. The soldiers were very scantily fed. 
Bragg never was a good feeder or commissary-general. Rations 
with us were always scarce. No extra rations were ever allowed to 
the negroes who were with us as servants. No coffee or whisky 
or tobacco were ever allowed to be issued to the troops. If they 
obtained these luxuries, they were not from the government. 
These luxuries were withheld in order to crush the very heart 
and spirit of his troops. We were crushed. Bragg, so the sol- 
diers thought, was the machine that did it. Bragg was the great 
autocrat. In the mind of the soldier, his word was law. He 
loved to crush the spirit of his men. The more of a hang-dog 
look they had about them the better was General Bragg pleased. 
Not a single soldier in the whole army ever loved or respected 
him. But he is dead now. 

Peace to his ashes ! 

We became starved skeletons ; naked and ragged rebels. The 
chronic diarrhoea became the scourge of the army. Corinth be- 
came one vast hospital. Almostthe whole army attended the sick 



CORINTH. 41 

call every morning. All the water courses went dry, and we used 
water out of filthy pools. 

Halleck was advancing; we had to fortify Corinth. A vast 
army, Grant, Buell, Halleck, Sherman, all were advancing ou 
Corinth. Our troops were in no condition to fight. In fact, 
they had seen enough of this miserable yet tragic farce. They 
were ready to ring down the curtain, put out the footlights and 
go home. They loved the Union anyhow, and were always op- 
posed to this war. But breathe softly the name of Bragg. It 
had more terror than the advancing hosts of Halleck's army. 
The shot and shell would come teaiing through our ranks. Ev- 
ery now and then a soldier was killed or wounded, and we thought 
what " magnificent " folly. Death was welcome. Halleck's 
whole army of blue coats had no terror now. When we were 
drawn up in line of battle, a detail of one-tenth of the army was 
placed in our rear to shoot us down if we ran. No pack of 
hounds under the master's lash, or body of penitentiary convicts 
were ever under greater surveillance. We were tenfold worse 
than slaves ; our morale was a thing of the past ; the glory of war 
and the pride of manhood had been sacrificed upon Bragg's tyran- 
nical holocaust. But enough of this. 

ROWLAND SHOT TO DEATH. 

One morning I went over to the 23rd Tennessee Regiment on 
a visit to Captain Gray Armstrong and Colonel Jim Niel, both of 
whom were glad to see me, as we were old ante-bellum friends. 
While at Colonel Niel's marquee I saw a detail of soldiers bring 
out a man by the name of Rowland, whom they were going to 
shoot to death with musketry, by order of a court martial, for 
desertion. I learned that he had served out the term for which 
he had originally volunteered, had quit our army and joined that 
of the Yankees, and was captured with Prentiss' Yankee brigade 
at Shiloh. He was being hauled to the place of execution in a 
wagon, sitting on an old gun box, which was to be his coffin. 
When they got to the grave, which had been dug the day before, 
the water had risen in it, and a soldier was baling it out. Row- 

4 



42 CORINTH. 

land spoke up and said, "Please hand me a drink of that water, 
as I want to drink out of my own grave, so the boys will talk 
about it when I am dead, and remember Rowland." They 
handed him the water and he drank all there was in the bucket, 
and handing it back asked them to please hand him a little more, 
as he had heard that water was very scarce in hell, and it would 
be the last he would ever drink. He was then carried to the 
death post, and there he began to cut up jack generally. He be- 
gan to curse Bragg, Jeif. Davis, and the Southern Confederacy, 
and all the rebels at a terrible rate. He was simply arrogant and 
vecy insulting. I felt that he deserved to die. He said he would 
show the rebels how a Union man could die. I do not know 
what all he did say. When the shooting detail came up, he went 
of his own accord and knelt down at the post. The Captain com- 
manding the squad gave the command, " Ready, aim, fire !" and 
Rowland tumbled over on his side. It was the last of Rowland. 

KILLING A YANKEE SHARPSHOOTER. 

In our immediate front, at Corinth, Mississippi, our men were 
being picked off by sharpshooters, and a great many were killed, 
but no one could tell where the shots came from. At one par- 
ticular post it was sure death. Every detail that had been sent 
to this post for a week had been killed In distributing the detail 
this post fell to Tom Webb and myself. They were bringing off 
a dead boy just as we went on duty. Colonel George C. Porter, 
of the 6th Tennessee, warned us to keep a good lookout. We took 
our stands. A rainnie ball whistled right by my head. I don't 
think it missed me an eighth of an inch. Tom had sat down on 
an old chunk of wood, and just as he took his seat, zip! a ball 
took the chunk of wood. Tompicked it up and began laughing 
at our tight p'ace. Plappening to glance up towards the tree tops, 
I saw a smoke rising above a tree, and about the same time I saw 
a Yankee peep from behind the tree, up among the bushes. I 
quickly called Tom's attention to it, and pointed out the place. 
We could see his ramrod as he handled it while loading his gun; 
saw him raise his gun as we thought, to put a cap on it. Tom in 



CORINTH. 43 

the meantime had lain flat on his belly and placed his gun across 
the chunk he had been sitting on. I had taken a rest for my gun 
by the side of a sapling, and both of us had dead aim at the place 
where the Yankee was. Finally we saw him sort o' peep round 
the tree, and we moved about a little so that he might see us, and 
as we did so, the Yankee stepped out in full view, and bang, 
bang ! Tom and I had both shot. We saw that Yankee tumble 
out like a squirrel. It sounded like distant thunder when that 
Yankee struck the ground. We heard the Yankees carry him 
off. One thing I am certain of, and that is, not another Yankee 
went up that tree that day, and Colonel George C. Porter com- 
plimented Tom and I very highly on our success. This is where 
I first saw a jack o' lantern (ignis fatui). That night, while Tom 
and I were on our posts, we saw a number of very dim lights, 
which seemed to be in motion. At first we took them to be Yan- 
kees moving about with lights. Whenever we could get a shot 
we would blaze away. At last one got up very close, and passed 
right between Tom and I. I don't think I was ever more scared 
in my life. My hair stood on end like the quills of the fretful 
porcupine ; I could not imagine what on earth it was. I took it 
to be some hellish machination of a Yankee trick. I did not 
know whether to run or stand, until I heard Tom laugh and say, 
"^Vell, well, that's a jack o'lantern." 

COLONEL FIELD. 

Before proceeding further with these memoirs, I desire to give 
short sketches of two personages with whom we were identified 
and closely associated until the winding up of the ball. The first 
is Colonel Hume K. Field. Colonel Field was born a soldier. 
I have read many descriptions of Stonewall Jackson. Colonel 
Field was his exact counterpart. They looked somewhat alike, 
spoke alike, and alike were trained military soldiers. The War 
Department at Richmond made a grand mistake in not making 
him a "commander of armies." He was not a brilliant man; 
could not talk at all. He was a soldier. His conversation was 
yea and nay. But when you couFd get "yes, sir," and "no, sir," 



44 CORINTH. 

out of him his voice was as soft and gentle as a maid's when she 
says " yes " to her lover. Fancy, if you please, a man about thir- 
ty years old, a dark skin, made swarthy by exposure to sun and 
rain, very black eyes that seemed to blaze with a gentle luster. 
I never saw him the least excited in my life. His face was a face 
of l)ronze. His form was somewhat slender, but when you looked 
at him you saw at the first glance that this would be a dangerous 
man in a ground skuffle, a foot race, or a fight. There was noth- 
ing repulsive or forbidding or even domineering in his looks. A 
child or a dog would make up with him on first sight. He knew 
not what fear was, or the meaning of the word fear. He had no 
nerves, or rather, has a rock or tree any nerves? You might as 
well try to shake the nerves of a rock or tree as those of Colonel 
Field. He was the bravest man, I think, I ever knew. Later 
in the war he was known by every soldier in the army ; and the 
First Tennessee Regiment, by his manipulations, became the regi- 
ment to occupy " tight places." He knew his men. When he 
struck the Yankee line they felt the blow. He had, himself, set 
the example, and so trained his regiment that all the armies in the 
world could not whip it. They might kill every man in it, is 
true, but they would die game to the last man. His men all 
loved him. He was no disciplinarian, but made his regiment 
what it was by his own example. And every day on the mar^ 
you would see some poor old ragged rebel riding his fine gray 
mare, and he walking. 

CAPTAIN JOE P. LEE. 

The other person I wish to speak of is Captain Joe P. Lee. 
Captain Henry J. Webster was our regular captain, but was cap- 
tured while on furlough, sent to a northern prison and died there, 
and Joe went up by promotion. He was quite a young man, 
about twenty-one years old, but as brave as any old Roman sol- 
dier that ever lived. Joe's face was ever wreathed in smiles, and 
from the beginning to the end he was ever at the head of his com- 
pany. I do not think that any member of the company ever did 
call him by his title. He was called simply "Joe Lee," or more 
frequently " Black Perch." W4iile on duty he was strict and 



CORINTH. 45 

firm, but ofiF duty he was "one of us boys." AVe all loved and re- 
spected him, but everybody knows Joe, and further comment is 
unnecessary. 

I merely mention these two persons because in this rapid sketch 
I may have cause occasionally to mention them, and only wish to 
introduce them to the reader, so he may understand more fully 
my ideas. But, reader, please remember that I am not writing a 
history at all, and do not propose in these memoirs to be any- 
body's biographer. I am only giving my own impressions. If 
other persons think differently from me it is all right, and I for- 
give them. 

CORINTH FORSAKEN. 

One morning a detail was sent to burn up and destroy all the 
provisions and army stores, and to blow up the arsenal. The 
town was in a blaze of fire and the arsenal was roaring and pop- 
ping and bellowing like pandemonium turned loose as we marched 
through Corinth on the morning of the evacuation. We bade 
farewell to Corinth. Its history was black and dark and damn- 
ing. No little speck of green oasis ever enlivened the dark re- 
cesses of our memory while at this place. It 's a desert that lives 
only in bitter memories. It was but one vast graveyard that en- 
tombed the life and spirit of once brave and chivalrous men. We 
left it to the tender mercies .of the Yankees without one tear of 
sorrow or regret, and bade it farewell forever. 



46 TUPELO. 



CHAP. IV.— TUPELO. 



TUPELO. 

We went into summer quarters at Tupelo. Our principal oc- 
cupation at this place was playing poker, chuck-a-luck and crack- 
ing gray backs (lice). Every soldier had a brigade of lice on 
him, and I have seen fellows so busily engaged in cracking them 
that it reminded me of an old woman knitting. At first the 
boys would go off in the woods and hide to louse themselves, but 
that was unnecefsary, the ground fairly crawled with lice. Pha- 
raoh's people, when they were resisting old Moses, never enjoyed 
the curse of lice more than we did. The boys would frequently 
have a louse race. There was one fellow who was winning all 
the money ; his lice would run quicker and crawl faster than any 
body's lice. We could not understand it. If some fellow hap- 
pened to catch a fierce-looking louse, he would call on Doruin for 
a race. Dornin would come and always win the stake. The 
lice were placed in plates — this was the race course — and the first 
that crawled off was the winner. At last we found out D.'s 
trick ; he always heated his plate. 

Billy P. said he had no lice on him. 

" Did you ever look ?" 

" No."' 

" How do you know then?" 

'* If ignorance is bliss 'tis folly to be wise," said Billy. 

" Wliy, there is one crawling on your bosom now." 

Billy took him and put him back in his bosom and said to the 
louse, "You stay there now; this makes the fourth time I have 
put you back, and if I catch you out again to-day I'll martyr 
you." 

Billy was philosophic — the death of one louse did not stop the 
breed. 



TUPELO. 47 

THE COURT-MARTIAL AT TUPELO. 

At this place was held the grand court-martial. Almost every 
day we would hear a discharge of musketry, and knevv that some 
poor, trembling wretch had bid farewell to mortal things here be- 
low. It seemed to be but a question of time with all of us as to 
when we too would be shot. We were afraid to chirp. So far 
now as patriotism was concerned, we had forgotten all about that, 
and did not now so much love our country as we feared Bragg. 
Men were being led to the death stake every day. I heard of 
many being shot, but did not see but two men shot myself. I do 
not know to what regiment they belonged, but I remember that 
they were mere beardless boys. I did not learn for what crime 
or the magnitude of their offenses. They might have deserved 
death for all I know. 

I saw an old man, about sixty years old, whose name was Dave 
Brewer, and another man, about forty-five, by the name of Rube 
Franklin, whipped. There was many a man whipped and 
branded that I never saw or heard tell of. But the reason I re- 
membered these two was that they belonged to Company A of 
the Twenty-third Tennessee Regiment, and I knew many men in 
the regiment. 

These two men were hung up by the hands, after having their 
heads shaved, to a tree, put there for the purpose, with the prongs 
left on them, and one hand was stretched toward one prong and 
the other hand to another prong, their feet, perhaps, just touch- 
ing the ground. The man who did the whipping had a thick piece 
of sole-leather, the end of which was cut in three strips, and this 
tacked on to the end of a paddle. After the charges and specifi- 
cations had been read (both men beiug stark naked), the whip} ec 
" lit in " on Rube, who was the youngest. I do not think he in- 
tended to hit as hard as he did, but, being excited himself, he 
blistered Rube from head to foot. Thirty-nine lashes was always 
the number. Now, three times thirty-nine makes one hundred 
and seventeen. When he struck at all, one lick would make 
three whelps. When he had finished Rube, the Captain com- 
manding the whipping squad told him to lay it on old man 



48 TUPELO. 

Brewer as light as the law would allow, that old man Brewer 
was so old that he would die — that he could not stand it. He 
struck old man Dave Brewer thirty-nine lashes, but they were 
laid on light. Old Dave didn't beg and squall like Rube did. 
He j-e-s-t did whip old man Dave. Like the old preacher who 
caught the bear on Sunday. They had him up before the church, 
agreed to let him oflp if he did not again set his trap. " Well," 
he said, " Brethren, I j-e-s-t did set it." 

RAIDING ON ROASTINGEARS. 

At this place General Bragg issued an order authorizing citi- 
zens to defend themselves against the depredations of soldiers — 
to shoot them down it caught depredating. 

Well, one day Byron Richardson and myself made a raid on 
an old citizen's roastingear patch. We had pulled about all the 
corn that we could carry. I had my arms full and was about 
starting for camp, when an old citizen raised up and said, "Stop 
there ! drop that corn." He had a double-barreled shot-gun 
cocked and leveled at my breast. 

" Come and go with me to General Bragg's headquarters. I 
intend to take you there, by the living God !" 

I was in for it. Directed to go in front, I was being marched 
to Bragg's headquarters. I could see the devil in the old fellow's 
eye. I tried to beg oft with good promises, but the old fellow was 
deaf to all entreaty. I represented to him all of our hardships 
and suffering. But the old fellow was inexorable. I was being 
steadily carried toward Bragg's headquarters. I was determined 
not to see General Bragg, even if the old citizen shot me in the 
back. When all at once a happy thought struck me. Says I, 
*' Mister, Byron Richardson is in your field, and if you will go 
back we can catch him and you can take both of us to General 
Bragg." The old fellow's spunk was up. He had captured me 
so easy, he no doubt thought he could whip a dozen. We went 
back a short distance, and there was Byron, who had just climbed 
over the fence and had his arms full, when the old citizen, di- 
verted from me, leveled his double-barrel at Byron, when I made 



TUPELO. 49 

a grab for his gun, which was accidentally discharged in the air, 
and with the assistance of Byron, we had the old fellow and his 
guu both. The table was turned. We made the old fellow 
gather as much as he could carry, and made him carry it nearly 
to camp, when we dismissed him, a wiser if not a better and 
richer man. We took his gun and bent it around a black jack 
tree. He was at the soldiers' mercy. 



50 KENTUCKY. 



CHAP, v.— KENTUCKY. 



WE GO INTO KENTUCKY. 



After being thoroughly reorganized at Tupelo, and the troops 
had recovered their health and spirits, we made an advance into 
Kentucky. We took the cars at Tupelo and went to Mobile, 
from thence across Mobile Bay to Montgomery, Alabama, then 
to Atlanta, from there to Chattanooga, and then over the moun- 
tains afoot to the blue-grass regions of Kentucky — the dark and 
bloody ground. Please remember, patient reader, that I write 
entirely from memory. I have no data or diary or anything to 
go by, and memory is a peculiar faculty. I find that I cannot 
remember towns and battles, and remember only the little things. 
I remember how gladly the citizens of Kentucky received us. I 
thought they had the prettiest girls that God ever made. They 
could not do too much tor us. They had heaps and stacks of 
cooked rations along our route, with wine and eider everywhere, 
and the glad shouts of " Hurrah for our Southern boys," greeted 
and welcomed us at every house. Ah, the boys felt like soldiers 
again. The bands played merrier and livelier tunes. It was the 
patient convalescing; the fever had left him, he was getting fat 
and strong; the old fire was seen to illuminate his eyes; his step 
was buoyant and proud ; he felt ashamed that he had ever been 
" hacked ;" he could fight now. It was the same old proud sol- 
dier of yore. The bands played " Dixie" and the " Bonnie Blue 
Flag," the citizens cheered, and the ladies waved their handker- 
chiefs and threw us bouquets. Ah, those were halcyon days, and 
your old solder, kind reader, loves to recall that happy period. 
Mumfordsville had been captured with five thousand prisoners. 
New recruits were continually joining our ranks. 

Camp Dick Robinson, that immense pile of army stores, had 
fallen into our hands. We rode upon the summit of the wave 
of success. The boys had got clean clothes, and had their faces 



KENTUCKY. 51 

washed. I saw then what I had long since forgotten — a "cock- 
ade." The Kentucky girls made cockades for us, and almost 
every soldier had one pinned on his hat. But stirring events 
were hastening on, the black cloud of battle and war had begun 
then to appear much larger than a man's hand, in fact we could 
see the lightning flash and hear the thunder roar. 

We were at Harrodsburg ; the Yankees were approaching 
Perryville under General Buell. The Yankees had been dogging 
our rear, picking up our stragglers and capturing some of our 
wagon trains. 

This good time that we were having was too good to last. 
We were in an ecstasy akin to heaven. We were happy ; the 
troops were jubilant ; our manhood blood pulsated more warmly; 
our patriotism was awakened ; our pride was renewed and stood 
ready for any emergency ; we felt that one Southern man could 
whip twenty Yankees. All was lovely and the goose hung high. 
We went to dances and parties every night. 

When General Chalmers marched to Perryville, in flanking 
and surrounding Mumfordsville, we marched the whole night 
long. We, the private soldiers, did not know what was going 
on among the Generals. All that we had to do was march, 
march, march. It mattered not how tired, hungry, or thirsty 
we were. All that we had to do was to march that whole night 
long, and every stafi' officer who would pass, some fellow would 
say, "Hey, mister, how far is it to Mumfordsville?" . He would 
answer, "Five miles." It seemed to me we traveled a hundred 
miles and were always within five miles of Mumfordsville. That 
night we heard a volley of musketry in our immediate front, and 
did not know what it meant, but soon we came to where a few 
soldiers had lighted some candles and were holding them over 
the body of a dead soldier. It was Captain Allison, if I remem- 
ber rightly, of General Cheatham's staff. He was very bloody, 
and had his clothes riddled with balls. I heard that he rode on 
in front of the advance guard of our army^ and had no doubt 
discovered the Yankee picket, and came galloping back at full 
speed in the dark, when our advance guard fired on and killed 
him. 



52 KENTUCKY. 

We laid clown in a graveyard that night and slept, and when 
we awoke the f.un was high in the heavens, shining in our faces. 
Mumfordsville had surrendered. The next day Dr. C. T. Quin- 
tard let me ride his horse nearly all day, while he walked with 
the web feet. 

THE BATTLE OF PERRYVILLE. 

In giving a description of this most memorable battle, I do 
not pretend to give you figures, and describe how this General 
looked and how that one spoke, and the other one charged with 
drawn sabre, etc. I know nothing of these things — see the his- 
tory for that. I was simply a soldier of the line, and I only 
write of the things I saw. I was in every battle, skirmish and 
march that was made by the First Tennessee Regiment during 
the war, and I do not remember of a harder contest and more 
evenly fought battle than that of Perryville. If it had been two 
men wrestling, it would have been called a " dog fall." Both 
sides claim the victory — both whipped. 

I stood picket in Perryville the night before the battle — a 
Yankee on one side of the street, and I on the other. We got 
very friendly during the night, and made a raid upon a citizen's 
pantry, where we captured a bucket of honey, a pitcher of sweet 
milk, and three or four biscuit. The old citizen was not at home 
— ho and his whole household had gone visiting, I believe. In 
fact, I think all of the citizens of Perryville were taken with a 
sudden notion of promiscuous visiting about this time; at least 
they were not at home to all callers. 

At length the morning dawned. Our line was drawn up on 
one side of Perryville, the Yankee army on the other. The two 
enemies that were soon to meet in deadly embrace seemed to be 
eyeing each other. The blue coats lined the hillside in plain 
view. You could count the number of their regiments by the 
number of their flags. We could see the huge war dogs frown- 
ing at us, ready at any moment to belch forth their fire and 
smoke, and hurl their thunderbolts of iron and death in our 
very midst. 



KENTUCKY. 53 

I wondered why the fighting did not begin. Never on earth 
were our troops more eager for the engagement to open. The 
Yankees commenced to march toward their left, and we marched 
almost parallel to our right — both sides watching each other's 
maneuvers and movements. It was but the lull that precedes 
the storm. Colonel Field was commanding our brigade, and 
Lieutenant-Colonel Patterson our regiment. About 12 o'clock, 
while we were marching through a corn field, in which the corn 
had been shocked, they opened iheir war dogs upon us. The be- 
ginning of the end had come. Here is where Captain John F. 
Wheless was wounded, and three others, whose names I have 
forgotten. The battle now opened in earnest, and from one 
end of the line to the other seemed to be a solid sheet of blazing 
smoke and fire. Our regiment crossed a stream, being preceded 
by Wharton's Texas Rangers, and we were ordered to attack 
at once with vigor. Here General Maney's horse was shot. 
From this moment the battle was a mortal struggle. Two lines 
of battle confronted us. We killed almost every one in the first 
line, and were soon charging over the second, when right in our 
immediate front was their third and main line of battle, from 
which four Napoleon guns poured their deadly fire. 

We did not recoil, but our line was fairly hurled back by the 
leaden hail that was poured into our very faces. Eight color- 
bearers were killed at one discharge of their cannon. We were 
right up among the very wheels of their Napoleon guns. It was 
death to retreat now to either side. Our Lieutenant-Colonel, 
Patterson, halloed to charge and take their guns, and we were 
soon in a hand-to-hand fight — every man for himself — using the 
buts of our guns and bayonets. One side would waver and fall 
back a few yards, and would rally, when the other side would fall 
back, leaving the four Napoleon guns ; and yet the battle raged. 
Such obstinate fighting I never had seen belore or since. The 
guns were discharged so rapidly that it seemed the earth itself 
was in a volcanic uproar. The iron storm passed through our 
ranks, mangling and tearing men to pieces. The very air seemed 
full of stifling smoke and fire, which seemed the very pit of hell, 
peopled by contending demons. 



54 KENTUCKY. 

Our men were dead and dying right in the very midst of 
this grand havoc of battle. It was a life to life and death to 
death grapple. The sun was j)oised above us, a great red ball, 
sinking slowly in the west, yet the scene of battle and carnage 
continued. I cannot describe it. The mantle of night fell upon 
the scene. I do not know which side whipped, but I know that 
I helped bring off those four Napoleon guns that night, though 
we were mighty easy about it. 

They were given to Turner's Battery of our brigade, and had 
the name of our Lieutenant-Colonel, Patterson^ and our color- 
bearer, Mitchell, both of whom were killed, inscribed on two of 
the pieces. I have forgotten the names inscribed on the other two 
pieces. I saw these very four guns surrendered at Missionary 
Ridge. But of this another time. 

The battle of Perryville presented a strange scene. The dead, 
dying, and wounded cf both armies, Confederate and Federal, 
were blended in inextricable confusion. Now and then a cluster 
of dead Yankees and close by a cluster of dead Rebels. It was 
like the Englishman's grog — 'alf and 'alf. Now, if you wish, 
kind reader, to find out how many were killed and wounded, I 
refer you to the histories. 

I remember one little incident that I laughed at while in the 
very midst of battle. We were charging through an old citizen's 
yard, when a big yellow cur dog ran out and commenced snapping 
at the soldiers' legs — they kicking at him to keep him off. The 
next morning he was lying near the same place, but he was a 
dead dog. 

I helped bring off our wounded that night. We worked the 
whole night. The next morning about daylight a wounded com- 
rade, Sam Campbell, complained of being cold, and asked me to 
lie down beside him. I did so, and was soon asleep; when I 
awoke the poor fellow was stiff and cold in death. His spirit 
had flown to its home beyond the skies. 

After the battle was over, John T. Tucker, Scott Stephens, A. 
S. Horsley and I were detailed to bring off oui wounded that 
night, and we helped to bring off many a poor dying comrade- 
Joe Thompson, Billy Bond, Byron Richardson, the two Allen boys 



KENTUCKY. 55 

— brothers, killed side by side — and Colonel Patterson, who was 
killed standing right by my side. He was first shot through the 
hand, and was wrapping his handkerchief around it, when an- 
other ball struck and killed him. I saw W. J. Whittorne, then 
a strippling boy of fifteen years of age, fall, shot through the 
neck and collar-bone. He fell apparently dead, when I saw him 
all at once jump up, grab his gun and commence loading and fir- 
ing, and I heard him say, " D — n ^em, I'll fight 'em as long as I 
livr." Whit thought he was killed, but he is living yet. We 
helped bring otf a man by the name of Hodge, with his under 
jaw shot off, and his tongue lolling out. We brought ofi" Cap- 
tain Lute B. Irvine. Lute was shot through the lungs and was 
vomiting blood all the while, and begging us to lay him down 
and let him die. But Lute is living yet. Also, Lieutenant 
Woldridge, with both eyes shot out. I found him rambling in a 
briar-patch. Abgut fifty members of the Rock City Guards 
were killed and nearly one hundred wounded. They were led 
by Captains W. D. Kelley, Wheless, and Steele. Lieutenant 
Thomas H. Maney was badly wounded. I saw dead on the bat- 
tle-field a Federal General by the name of Jackson. Jt was his 
brigade that fought us. so obstinately at this place, and I did hear 
that they were made up in Kentucky. Colonel Field, then com- 
manding our brigade, and on his fine gray mare, rode up almost 
face to face with General Jackson, before he was killed, and Col- 
onel Field was shooting all the time with his seven-shooting rifle. 
I cannot tell the one-half, or even remember at this late date, 
the scenes of blood and suffering that I witnessed on the 
battle-field of Perryville. But its history, like all the balance, 
has gone into the history of the war, and it has been twenty 
years ago, and I write entirely from memory. I remember Lieu- 
tenant Joe P. Lee and Captain W. C. Flournoy standing right at 
the muzzle of the Napoleon guns, and the next moment seemed 
to be enveloped in smoke and fire from the discharge of the can- 
non. When the regiment recoiled under the heavy firing and at 
the first charge, Billy Webster and I stopped behind a large oak 
tree and continued to fire at the Yankees until the regiment was 
again charging upon the four Napoleon guns, heavily supported 



56 KEISTUCKY. 

I)y infantry. We were not more than twenty paces from them; 
and here I was shot through the hat and cartridge-box. I re- 
member this, because at that time Billy and I were in advance 
of our line, and whenever we saw a Yankee rise to shoot, we 
shot him ; and I desire to mention here that a braver or more 
noble boy was never created on earth than was Billy Webster. 
Everybody liked him. He was the flower and chivalry of our 
regiment. His record as a brave and noble boy will ever live in 
the hearts of his old comrades that served with him in Company 
H. He is up yonder now, and we shall meet again. In these 
memoirs I only tell what I saw myself, as every one ought to tell 
what he saw himself, and in this way the world will know the 
truth. Now, citizen, let me tell you what you never heard be- 
fore, and that is this — there were many men with the rank and 
pay of General, who were not Generals; there were many men 
with the rank and pay of privates who would jjave honored and 
adorned the name of General. Now, I will state further that a 
private soldier was a private. 

It mattered not how ignorant a Corporal might be, he was al- 
ways right; it mattered not how intelligent the private might be 
(and so on up) ; the Sergeant was right over the Corporal, the 
Sergeant-major over the Sergeant, the Lieutenant over him, and 
the Captain over him, and the Major over him, and the Colonel 
over him, and the General over him, and so on up to Jeif Davis. 
You see, a private had no right to know anything, and that is 
why Generals did all the fighting, and that is to-day why Gener- 
als and Colonels and Captains are great men. They fought the 
battles of our country. The privates did not. The Generals 
risked their reputation, the private soldier his Hfe. No one ever 
saw a private in battle. His history would never be written. It 
was the Generals that everybody saw charge such and such, with 
drawn sabre, his eyes flashing fire, his nostrils dilated, and his 
clarion voice ringing above the din of battle — "in a horn," over 
the left. 

Bill Johns and Marsh Pinkard would have made Generals that 
would have distinguished themselves and been an honor to the 
country. 



KENTUCKY. 57 

I know to-day many a private who would have made a good 
General. I know of many a General who was better fitted to be 
excused from detail and fights, to hang around a camp and draw 
rations for the company. A private had no way to distinguish 
himself. He had to keep in ranks, either in a charge or a retreat. 
But now, as the Generals and Colonels fill all the positions of 
honor and emoluments, the least I say, the better. 

THE RETREAT OUT OP KENTUCKY. 

From Perryville we went to Camp Dick Robinson and drew 
three days' rations, and then set fire to and destroyed all those 
great deposits of army stores which would have supplied the South 
for a year. We ate those rations and commenced our retreat out 
of Kentucky with empty haversacks and still emptier stomachs. 

We supposed. our General and Commissaries knew what they 
were doing, and at night we would again draw rations, but we 
didn't. 

The Yankee cavalry are worrying our rear guards. There is 
danger of an attack at any moment. No soldier is allowed to 
break ranks. 

We thought, well surely we will draw rations to-night. But 
we didn't. We are marching for Cumberland Gap ; the country 
has long ago been made desolate by the alternate occupation of 
both armies. There are no provisions in the country. It has 
long since been laid waste. We wanted rations, but we did not 
get them. 

Fourth day out — Cumberland Gap in the distance — a great in- 
denture in the ranges of Cumberland mountains. The scene was 
grand. But grand scenery had but little attraction for a hungry 
soldier. Surely we will get rations at Cumberland Gap. Toil on 
up the hill, and when half way up the hill, " Halt ! " — march 
back down to the foot of the hill to defend the cavalry. I was 
hungry. A cavalryman was passing our regiment with a pile of 
scorched dough on the pummel of his saddle. Says I, " Halt ! I 
am going to have a pattock of that bread." " Don't give it to 
him ! don't give it to him ! " was yelled out from all sides. I 
5 



58 KENTUCKY. 

cocked my gun and was about to raise it to ray shoulder, when he 
handed me over a pattock of scorched dough, and every fellow in 
Company H made a grab for it, and I only got about two or 
three mouthfuls. About dark a wild heifer ran by our regiment, 
and I pulled down on her. We killed and skinned her, and 1 
cut ofi about five pounds of hiudquarter. In three minutes there 
was no sign of that beef left to tell the tale. We ate that beef raw 
and without salt. 

Only eight miles now to Cumberland Gap, and we will get ra- 
tions now. But we didn't. We descended the mountain on the 
southern side. No rations yet. 

Well says I, this won't do me. lam going to hunt something 
to eat, Bragg or no Bragg. I turned off the road and struck out 
through the country, but had gone but a short distance before I 
came across a group of soldiers clambering over something. It 
was Tom Tuck with a barrel of sorghum that he had captured 
from a good Union man. He was selling it out at five dollars a 
quart. I paid my five dollars, and by pushing and scrouging I 
finally got my quart. I sat down and drank it; it was bully ; it 
was not so good ; it was not worth a cent ; I was sick, and have 
never loved sorghum since. 

Along the route it was nothing but tramp, tramp, tramp, and 
no sound or noise but the same inevitable, monotonous tramp, 
tramp, tramp, up hill and down hill, through long and dusty 
lanes, weary, wornout and hungry. No cheerful warble of a mer- 
ry songster would ever greet our ears. It was always tramp, 
tramp, tramp. You might, every now and then, hear the occa- 
sional words, " close up ; " but outside of that, it was but the same 
tramp, tramp, tramp. I have seen soldiers fast asleep, and no 
doubt dreaming of home and loved ones there, as they staggered 
along in their places in the ranks. I know that on many a 
weary night's march I have slept, and slept soundly, while march- 
ing along in my proper place in the ranks of the company, step- 
ping to the same step as the soldier in front of me did. Some- 
times, when weary, broken down and worn out, some member of 
the regiment would start a tune, and every man would join in. 
John Branch was usually the leader of the choir. He would com- 



KENTUCKY. 59 

raence a beautiful tune. The words, as I remember them now, 
were, " Dear Paul, Just Twenty Years Ago." After singing this 
piece he would commence on a lively, spirit-stirring air to the 
tune ot " Old Uncle Ned." Now, reader, it has been twenty 
years ago since I heard it, but I can remember a part of it now.. 
Here it is : 

" There was an ancient individual whose cognomen was Uncle Edward. 

He departed this life long since, long since. 

He had no capillary substance on the top of his cranium, 

The place where the capillary substance ought to vegetate. 

His digits were as long as the bamboo piscatorial implement of the Southern 

Mississippi. 
He had no oculars to observe the beauties of nature. 
He had no ossified formation to masticate his daily rations, 
So he had to let his daily rations pass by with impunity." 

Walker Coleman raises the tune of *' I'se a gwine to jine the 
rebel band, a fightin' for my home." 

Now, reader, the above is all I can now remember of that very 
beautiful and soul-stirring air. But the boys would wake up and 
step quicker and livelier for some time, and Arthur Fulghura 
would holloa out, " All right ; go ahead ! " and then would toot ! 
toot! as if the cars were starting — puff! puff! puff! and then he 
would say, " Tickets, gentlemen, tickets, gentlemen," like ho was a 
conductor on a train of cars. This little episode would be over, 
and then would commence the same tramp, tramp, tramp, all 
night long. Step by step, step by step, we continued to plod and 
nod and stagger and march, tramp, tramp, tramp. After awhile 
we would see the morning star rise in the east, and then after 
awhile the dim gray twilight, and finally we could discover the 
outlines of our file leader, and after awhile could make out the 
outlines of trees and other objects. And as it would get lighter 
and lighter, and day would be about to break, cuckoo, cuckoo, 
cuckoo, would come frOm Tom Tuck's rooster. [Tom carried a 
game rooster, that he called " Fed" for Confederacy, all through the 
war in a haversack.] And then the sun would begin to shoot his 
slender rays athwart the eastern sky, and the boys would wake up 



60 KENTUCKY. 

and begin laughing and talking as it they had just risen from a good 
feather bed, and were perfectly refreshed and happy. We would 
usually stop at some branch or other about breakfast time, and all 
wash our hands and faces and eat breakfast, if we had any, and 
then commence our weary march again. If we were halted for 
one minute, every soldier would drop down, and resting on his 
knapsack, would go to sleep. Sometimes the sleeping soldiers 
were made to get up to let some General and his staff pass by. 
But whenever that was the case, the General always got a worse 
cursing than when Noah cursed his son Ham black and blue. I 
heard Jesse Ely do this once. 

We march on. The scene of a few days ago comes unbidden 
to my mind. Tramp, tramp, tramp, the soldiers are marching. 
Where are many of my old friends and comrades, whose names 
were so familiar at every roll call, and whose familiar " Here " is 
no more? They lie yonder at Perry ville, unburied, on the field 
of battle. They lie where they fell. More than three hundred 
and fifty members of my regiment, the First Tennessee, numbered 
among the killed and wounded — one hundred and eighty-five 
slain on the field of battle. Who are they ? Even then I had to 
try to think up the names of all the slain of Company H alone. 
Their spirits seemed to be with us on the march, but we know 
that their souls are with their God. Their bones, to-day, no 
doubt, bleach upon the battlefield. They left their homes, fami- 
lies, and loved ones a little more than one short twelve months 
ago, dressed in their gay uniforms, amid the applause and cheer- 
ing farewells of those same friends. They lie yonder ; no friend- 
ly hands ever closed their eyes in death ; no kind, gentle, and lov- 
ing mother was there to shed a tear over and say farewell to her 
darling boy ; no sister's gentle touch ever wiped the death damp 
from off their dying brows. Noble boys; brave boys ! They will- 
ingly gave their lives to their country's cause. Their bodies and 
bones are mangled and torn by the rude missiles of war. They 
sleep the sleep of the brave. They have given their all to their 
country. We miss them from our ranks. There are no more 
hard marches and scant rations for them. They have accom- 
plished all that could be rct^uired of them. They are no more ; 



KENTUCKY. 61 

their names are soon forgotten. They are put down in the roll- 
book as killed. They are forgotten. We will see them no more 
until the last reveille ou the last morning of the final resurrection. 
Soldiers, comrades, friends, noble boys, farewell ! we will meet no 
more on earth, but up yonder some day we will have a grand 
reunion. 

KNOXVILLE. 

The first night after crossing Cumberland Gap — I have forgot- 
ten the date, but I know it was very early in the fall of the year ; 
we had had no frost or cold weather, and our marches all through 
Kentucky had been characterized by very dry weather, it not hav- 
ing rained a drop on us during the whole time — about four o'clock 
in the morning it began to snow, and the next morning the 
ground was covered with a deep snow ; the trees and grass and 
everything of the vegetable kingdom still green. 

When we got back to Knoxville we were the lousiest, dirtiest, 
raggedest looking Rebels you ever saw. I had been shot through 
the hat and cartridge-box at Perryville, and had both on, and the 
clothing I then had on was all that I had in the world. William 
A. Hughes and I were walking up the street looking at the stores, 
etc., when we met two of the prettiest girls I ever saw. They 
ran forward with smiling faces, and seemed very glad to see us. 
I thought they were old acquaintances of Hughes, and Hughes 
thought they were old acquaintances of mine. We were soon 
laughing and talking as if we had been old friends, when one of 
the young ladies spoke up and said, " Gentlemen, there is a sup- 
per for the soldiers at the Ladies' Association rooms, and we are 
sent out to bring in all the soldiers we can find." We spoke up 
quickly and said, " Thank you^ thank you, young ladies," and I 
picked out the prettiest one and said, " Please take my arm," 
which she did, and Hughes did the same with the other one, and 
we went in that style down the street. I imagine we were a fun- 
ny looking sight. I know one thing, I felt good all over, and as 
proud as a boy with his first pants, and when we got to that sup- 
per room those young ladies waited on us, and we felt as grand as 
kings. To you, ladies, I say, God bless you ! 



62 KENTUCKY. 

AH, "sneak." 

Almost every soldier in the army — generals, colonels, captains, 
as well as privates — had a nick-name ; and I almost believe that 
had the war continued ten years, we would have forgotten our 
proper names. John T. Tucker was called "Sneak," A. S. Hors- 
ley was called " Don Von One Horsley," W. A. Hughes was 
called " Apple Jack," Green Rieves was called " Devil Horse," 
the surgeon of our regiment was called "Old Snake," Bob Brank 
was called " Count," the colonel of the 4th was called " Guide 
Post," E. L. Lansdown was called " Left Tenant," some were 
called by the name of" Greasy," some " Buzzard," others " Hog," 
and " Brutus," and " Cassius," and " Csesar," and " Left Center," 
and "Bolderdust," and "Old Hannah;" in fact, the nick-names 
were singular and peculiar, and when a man got a nick-name it 
stuck to him like the Old Man of the Sea did to the shoulders of 
Sinbad, the sailor. 

On our retreat the soldiers got very thirsty for tobacco (they 
always used the word thirsty), and they would sometimes come 
across an old field off which the tobacco had been cut and the 
suckers had re-sprouted from the old stalk, and would cut off 
these suckers and dry them by the fire and chew them. " Sneak" 
had some how or other got hold of a plug or two, and knowing 
that he would be begged for a chew, had cut it up in little bits of 
pieces about one-fourth of a chew. Some fellow would say, 
"Sneak, please give me a chew of tobacco," Sneak would say, 
" I don't believe I have a piece left," and then he would begin to 
feel in his pockets. He would pull that hand out and feel in an- 
other pocket, and then in his coat pockets, and hid away down in 
an odd corner of his vest pocket he would accidentally find a Itt- 
tle chew, just big enough to make "spit come." Sneak had his 
pockets full all the time. The boys soon found out his inuen- 
does and subterfuges, but John would all the time appear as in- 
nocent of having tobacco as a pet lamb that has just torn down a 
nice vine that you were so careful in training to run over the 
front porch. Ah, John, don't deny it now ! 



KENTUCKY. 63 



I JINE THE CAVALRY. 



When we got to Charleston, on the Hiwassee river, there we 
found the First Tennessee Cavalry and Ninth Battalion, both of 
which had been made up principally in Maury county, and we 
knew all the boys. We had a good old fashioned hand-shaking 
all around. Then I wanted to " jine the cavalry." Captain Asa 
G. Freeman had an extra horse, and I got on him and joined the 
cavalry for several days, but all the time some passing cavalry- 
man would make some jocose remark about " Here is a web-foot 
who wants to jine the cavalry, and has got a bayonet on his gun 
and a knapsack on his back." I felt like I had got into the 
wrong pen, but anyhow I got to ride all of three days. I remem- 
ber that Mr. Willis B. Embry gave me a five pound package of 
Kallickanick smoking tobacco, for which I was very grateful. I 
think he was Quartermaster of the First Tennessee Cavalry, and 
as good a man and as clever a person as I ever knew. None 
knew him but to love him. I was told that he was killed by a 
lot of Yankee soldiers after he had surrendered to them, all the 
time begging for his life, asking them please not kill him. But 
He that uoteth the sparrow's fall doeth all things well. Not one 
ever falls to the ground without His consent. 



64 MUEFREESBORO. 



CHAP. VL— MURFREESBORO. 



MUEFREESBORO. 

We came from Knoxville to ChattaDOOga, and seemed destined 
to make a permanent stay here. We remained several months, 
but soon we were on the tramp again. 

From Chattanooga, Bragg's army went to Murfreesboro. 

The Federal army was concentrating at Nashville. There was 
no rest for the weary. Marches and battles were the order of 
the day. 

Our army stopped at Murfreesboro. Our advanced outpost 
was established at Lavergne. From time to time different regi- 
ments were sent forward, to do picket duty. I was on picket at 
the time the advance was made by Rosencrans. At the time 
mentioned, I was standing about two hundred yards off the road, 
the main body of the pickets being on the Nashville and Mur- 
freesboro turnpike, and commanded by Lieutenant Hardy Mur- 
free, of the Rutherford Rifles. 

I had orders to allow no one to pass. In fact, no one was 
expected to pass at this point, but while standing at my post, a 
horseman rode up behind me. I halted him, and told him to go 
down to the main picket on the road and pass, but he seemed so 
smiling that I thought he knew me, or had a good joke to tell 
me. He advanced up, and pulling a piece of paper out of his 
pocket, handed it to me to read. It was an order from General 
Leonidas Polk to allow the bearer to pass. I read it, and looked 
up to hand it back to him, when I discovered that he had a pis- 
tol cocked and leveled in my face, and says he, " Drop that gun ; 
you are my prisoner." I saw there was no use in fooling about 
it. I knew if I resisted he would shoot me, and I thought then 
that he was about to perform that detestable operation. I dropped 
the gun. 



MURFREESBORO. 65 

I did not wish to spend ray winter in a Northern prison, and 
what was worse, I would be called a deserter from my post of 
duty. 

The Yankee picket lines were not a half mile off. I was per- 
fectly willing to let the spy go on his way rejoicing — for such he 
was — but he wanted to capture a Rebel. ' 

And I had made up my mind to think likewise. There I was, 
a prisoner sure, and no mistake about it. 

His pistol was leveled, and I was ordered to march. I was 
afraid to halloo to the relief, and you may be sure I was in a bad 
fix. 

Finally says I, "Let's play quits. I think you are a soldier; 
you look like a gentleman. I am a videt; you know the respon- 
sibility resting on me. You go your way, and leave me here. 
Is it a bargain ?" 

Says he, '* I would not trust a Secesh on his word, oath, or 
bond. March, I say." 

I soon found out that he had caught sight of the relief on the 
road, and was afraid to shoot. I quickly made up my mind. 
My gun was at my feet, and one step would get it. I made a 
quick glance over my shoulder, and grabbed at my gun. He 
divined my motive, and fired. The ball missed its aim. He put 
spurs to his horse, but I pulled down on him, and almost tore the 
fore shoulder of his horse entirely off, but I did not capture the 
spy, though I captured the horse, bridle and saddle. Major 
Allen, of the Twenty-seventh Tennessee Regiment, took the sad- 
dle and bridle, and gave me the blanket. I remember the blanket 
had the picture of a "big lion" on it, and it was almost new. 
When we fell back, as the Yankee sharpshooters advanced, we 
left the poor old horse nipping the short, dry grass. I saw a 
Yankee skirmisher run up and grab the horse and give a whoop 
as if he had captured a Rebel hors3. But they continued to ad- 
vance upon us, we firing and retreating slowly. We had several 
pretty sharp brushes with them that day. I remember that they 
had to cross an open field in our front, and we were lying behind 
a fence, and as they advanced, we kept up firing, and would run 
them back every time, until they brought up a regiment that 



66 MURFREESBORO. 

whooped, and yelled, and charged our skirmish line, and then we 
fell back again. I think we must have killed a good many in 
the old field, because we were firing all the time at the solid line 
as they advanced upon us. 

BATTLE AT MURFREESBORO. 

The next day, the Yankees were found out to be advancing. 
Soon they came in sight of our picket. AVe kept falling back 
and firing all day, and were relieved by another regiment about 
dark. We rejoined our regiment. Line of battle was formed 
on the north bank of Stone's River — on the Yankee side. Bad 
generalship, I thought. 

It was Christmas. John Barleycorn was General in Chief. 
Our Generals, and Colonels, and Captains had kissed John a lit- 
tle too often. They couldn't see straight. It was said to* be 
buckeye whisky. They couldn't tell our own men from Yankees. 
The private could, but he was no General, you see. But here 
they were — the Yankees — a battle had to be fought. We were 
ordered forward. I was on the skirmish line. We marched 
plumb into the Yankee lines, with their flags flying. 

I called Lieutenant-Colonel Frierson's attention to the Yan- 
kees, and he remarked, " Well, I don't know whether they are 
Yankees or not, but if they are, they will come out of there 
mighty quick." 

The Yankees marched over the hill out of sight. 

We were ordered forward to the attack. We were right upon 
the Yankee line on the Wilkerson turnpike. The Yankees were 
shooting our men down by scores. A universal cry was raised, 
" You are firing on your own men." '^ Cease firing, cease firing," 
I hallooed ; in fact, the whole skirmish line liallooed, and kept on 
telling them that they were Yankees, and to shoot; but the order 
was to cease firing, you are firing on your own men. 

Captain James, of Cheatham's staff, was sent forward and 
killed in his own yard. We were not twenty yards off from the 
Yankees, and they were pouring the hot shot and shells right 
into our ranks ; and every man was yelling at the top of his 



MURFREESBORO. 67 

voice, "Cease firing, you are firing on your own men; cease fir- 
ing, you are firing on your own men." 

Oakley, color-bearer of the Fourth Tennessee Regiment, ran 
right up in the midst of the Yankee line with his colors, begging 
his men to follow. I hallooed till I was hoarse, " They are Yan- 
kees, they are Yankees; shoot, they are Yankees." 

The crest occupied by the Yankees was belching loud with fire 
and smoke, and the Rebels were falling like leaves of autumn in a 
hurricane. The leaden hail storm swept them oif the field. They 
fell back and re-formed. General Cheatham came up and ad- 
vanced. I did not fall back, but continued to load and shoot, 
nntil a fragment of a shell struck me on the arm, and then a 
minnie ball passed through the same, paralyzed my arm, and 
wounded and disabled me. General Cheatham, all the tinie, was 
calling on the men to go forward, saying, " Come on, boys, and 
follow me." 

The impression that General Frank Cheatham made upon my 
mind, leading the charge on the Wilkerson turnpike, I will never 
forget. I saw either victory or death written on his face. When 
I saw him leading our brigade, although I was wounded at the 
time, I felt sorry for him, he seemed so earnest and concerned, 
and as he was passing me I said, " Well, General, if your are de- 
termined to die, I'll die with you." We were at that time at 
least a hundred yards in advance of the brigade, Cheatham all 
the time calling upon the men to come on. He was leading the 
charge in person. Then it was that I saw the power of one man, 
born to command, over a multitude of men then almost routed 
and demoralized. I saw and felt that he was not fighting for 
glory, but that he was fighting for his country, because he loved 
that country, and he was willing to give his life for his country 
and the success of our cause. He deserves a wreath of immor- 
tality, and a warm place in every Southron's heart, for his brave 
and glorious example on that bloody battle-field of Murfreesboro. 
Yes, his history will ever shine in beauty and grandeur as a 
name among the brightest in all the galaxy of leaders in the his- 
tory of our cause. 

Now, another fact I will state, and that is, when the private 



68 MURFREESBORO. 

soldier was ordered to charge and capture the twelve pieces of 
artillery, heavily supported by infantry, Maney's brigade raised 
a whoop and yell, and swooped down on those Yankees like a 
whirl-a-gust of woodpeckers in a hail storm, paying the blue- 
coated rascals back with compound interest; for when they did 
come, every man's gun was loaded, and they marched upon the 
blazing crest in solid file, and when they did fire, there was a 
sudden lull in the storm of battle, because the Yankees were 
nearly all killed. I cannot remember now of ever seeing more 
dead men and horses and captured cannon, all jumbled together^ 
than that scene of blood and carnage and battle on the Wilkerson 
turnpike. The ground was literally covered with blue coats 
dead; and, if I remember correctly, there were eighty dead 
horses. 

By this time our command had re-formed, and charged the 
blazing crest. 

The spectacle was grand. With cheers and shouts they charged 
up the hill, shooting down and bayoneting the flying cannoneers. 
General Cheatham, Colonel Field and Joe Lee cutting and slash- 
ing with their swords. The victory was complete. The whole 
left wing of the Federal army was driven back five miles from 
their original position. Their dead and wounded were in our 
lines, and we had captured many pieces of artillery, small arms, 
and prisoners. 

When I was wounded, the shell and shot that struck me, 
knocked me winding. I said, " O, O, I'm wounded," and at the 
same time I grabbed my arm. I thought it had been torn from 
my shoulder. The brigade had fallen back about two hundred 
yards, when General Cheatham's presence reassured them, and 
they soon were in line and ready to follow so brave and gallant a 
leader, and had that order of "cease firing, you are firing on your 
own men," not been given, Maney's brigade would have had the 
honor of capturing eighteen pieces of artillery, and ten thousand 
prisoners. This I do know to be a fact. 

As I went back to the field hospital, I overtook another man 
walking along. 1 do not know to what regiment he belonged, 
but I remember of first noticing that his left arm was entirely 



MURFREESBORO. 69 

gone. His face was as white as a sheet. The breast and sleeve 
of his coat had been torn away, and I could see the frazzled end of 
his shirt sleeve, which appeared to he sucked into the wound. I 
looked at it pretty close, and I said " Great God ! " for I could 
see his heart throb, and the respiration of his lungs. I was filled 
with wonder and horror at the sight. He was walking along, 
when all at once he dropped down and died without a struggle or 
a groan. I could tell of hundreds of such incidents of the bat- 
tle-field, but tell only this one, because I remember it so dis- 
tinctly. 

ROBBING A DEAD YANKEE. 

In passing over the battle-field, I came across a dead Yankee 
Colonel. He had on the finest clothes I ever saw, a red sash and 
fine sword. I particularly noticed his boots. I needed them, 
and had made up my mind to wear them out for him. But I 
could not bear the thought of wearing dead men's shoes. I took 
hold of the foot and raised it up and made one trial at the boot 
to get it off. I happened to look up, and the Colonel had his 
eyes wide open, and seemed to be looking at me. He was stone 
dead, but I dropped that foot quick. It was my first and last at- 
tempt to rob a dead Yankee. 

Afler the battle was over at Murfreesboro, that night, John 
Tucker and myself thought that we would investigate the con- 
tents of a fine brick mansion in our immediate front, but between 
our lines and the Yankee's, and even in advance of our videts. 
Before we arrived at the house we saw a body of Yankees ap- 
proaching, and as we started to run back, they fired upon us. 
Our pickets had run in and reported a night attack. We ran 
forward, expecting that our men would recognize us, but they 
opened fire upon us. I never was as bad scared in all my whole 
life, and if any poor devil ever prayed with fervency and true 
piety, I did it on that occasion. I thought, " I am between two 
fires." I do not think that a flounder or pancake was halt as flat 
as I was that night; yea, it might be called in music, low flat. 



70 SHELBYVILLE. 



CHAP. VII.— SHELBYVILLE. 



SHELBYVILLE. 

It is a bad thing for an army to remain too long at one place. 
The men soon become, discontented and unhappy, and we had no 
diversion or pastime except playing poker and chuck-a-luck. 
All the money of the regiment had long ago been spent, but 
grains of corn represented dollars, and with these we would play 
as earnestly and as zealously as if they were so much money, 
sure enough. 

A FOOT RACE. 

One of those amusing episodes that frequently occur in the 
army, happened at this place. A big strapping fellow by the 
name of Tennessee Thompson, always carried bigger burdens 
than any other five men in the array. For example, he carried 
two quilts, three blankets, one gum oil cloth, one overcoat, one 
axe, one hatchet, one camp-kettle, one oven and lid, one coffee 
pot, besides his knapsack, haversack, canteen, gun, cartridge-box, 
and three days' rations. He was a rare bird, anyhow. Tennes- 
see usually had his hair cut short on one side and left long on the 
other, so that he could give his head a bow and a toss and throw 
the long hairs over on the other side, and it would naturally part 
itself without a comb. Tennessee was the wit and good nature of 
the company ; always in a good humor, and ever ready to do any 
duty when called upon. In fact, I would sometimes get out of 
heart and low spirited, and would hunt up Tennessee to have ^ 
little fun. His bye-word was "Bully for Bragg; he's hell on 
retreat, and will whip the Yankees yet." He was a good and 
brave soldier, and followed the fortunes of Company H from the 
beginning to the end. 



SHELBYVILLE. 71 

Well, one day he and Billy Webster bet twenty-five dollars, 
put up in Bill Martin's hands, as to which could run the faster. 
John Tucker, Joe Lee, Alt. Horsley and myself were appointed 
judges. The distance was two hundred yards. The ground was 
measured off, and the judges stationed. Tennessee undressed 
himself, even down to his stocking feet, tied a red handkerchief 
around his head, and another one around his waist, and walked 
deliberately down the track, eyemg every little rock and stick 
and removing them off the track. Comes back to the starting 
point and then goes down the track in half canter; returns again, 
his eyes flashing, his nostrils dilated, looking the impersonation 
of the champion courser of the world ; makes two or three appar- 
ently false starts ; turns a summersault by placing his head on the 
ground and flopping over on his back ; gets up and whickers like 
a horse; goes half-hammered, hop, step, and jump — he says to 
loosen up his joints — scratches up the ground with his hands and 
feet, flops his arms and crows like a rooster, and says, "Bully 
for Bragg; he's hell on a retreat," and announces his readiness. 
The drum is tapped, and off they start. Well, Bill}' Webster 
beat him one hundred yards in the two hundred, and Tennes- 
see came back and said, "Well, boys, I'm beat; Billy Martin, 
hand over the stakes to Billy Webster. I 'm beat, but hang 
me if I didn't outrun the whole Yankee array coming out of 
Kentucky ; got away from Lieutenant Lansdown and the whole 
detail at Chattanooga with half a hog, a fifty pound sack of flour, 
a jug of Meneesee commissary whisky, and a camp-kettle full of 
brown sugar. I 'm beat. Billy Martin, hand over the stakes. 
Bully for Bragg ; he 's hell on a retreat." Tennessee was try- 
ing bluff. He couldn't run worth a cent; but there was no 
braver or truer man ever drew a ramrod or tore a cartride than 
Tennessee. 

EATING MUSSELS. 

Reader, did you ever eat a mussel ? Well, we did, at Shelby- 
ville. We were camped right upon the bank of Duck river, and 
one day Fred Dornin, Ed Voss, Andy Wilson and I went in the 



72 SHELBYVILLE. 

river mussel hunting. Every one of us had a meal sack. We 
would feel down with our feet until we felt a mussel and then 
dive for it. We soon filled our sacks with mussels in their shells. 
When we got to camp we cracked the shells and took out the 
mussels. We tried frying them, but the longer they fried the 
tougher they got. They were a little too large to swallow whole. 
Then we stewed them, and after awhile we boiled them, and then 
we baked them, but every flaTik movement we would make on 
those mussels the more invulnerable they would get. We tried 
cutting them up with a hatchet, but they were so slick and tough 
the hatchet would not cut them. Well, we cooked them, and but- 
tered them, and salted them, and peppered them, and battered them • 
They looked good, and smelt good, and tasted good ; at least the 
fixings we put on them did, and we ate the mussels. I went to 
sleep that night. I dreamed that my stomach was four grind- 
stones, and that they turned in four directions, according to the 
four corners of the earth. I awoke to hear four men yell out, 
" O, save, O, save me from eating any more mussels ! " 

"poor" berry morgan. 

One of those sad. unexpected affairs, that remind the living 
that even in life we are in the midst of death, happened at Shel- 
by vi lie. Our regiment had been out to the front, on duty, and 
was returning to camp. It was nearly dark, and we saw a black 
wind cloud rising. The lightning's flash and the deep muttering 
thunders warned us to seek shelter as spee<lily as possible. Some 
of us ran in under the old depot shed, and soon the storm struck 
us. It was a tornado that made a track through the woods be- 
yond Shelbyville, and right through the town, and we could fol- 
low its course for miles where it had blown down the timber, 
twisting and piling it in every shape. Berry Morgan and I had 
ever been close friends, and we threw down our blankets and were 
lying side by side, when I saw roofs of houses, sign boards, and 
brickbats flying in every direction. Nearly half of the town was 
blown away in the storm. While looking at the storm without, 
I felt the old shed suddenly jar and tremble, and suddenly be- 



SHELBYVILLE. 73 

come unroofed, and it seemed to me that ten thousand brickbats 
had fallen in around us. I could hear nothing for the roaring of 
the storm, and could see nothing for the blinding ram and fly- 
ing dirt and bricks and other rubbish. The storm lasted but a 
few minutes, but those minutes seemed ages. When it had passed, 
I turned to look at " poor Berry." Poor fellow ! his head was 
crushed in by a brickbat, his breast crushed in by another, and I 
think his arm broken, and he otherwise mutilated. It was a sad 
sight. Many others of our regiment were wounded. 

Berry was a very handsome boy. He was what everybody 
would call a " pretty man." He had fair skin, blue eyes, and fine 
curly hair, which made him look like an innocent child. I loved 
Berry. He was my friend — as trne as the needle to the pole. 
But God who doeth all things well, took his spirit in the midst of 
the storm to that beautiful home beyond the skies. I thank God 
I am no infidel. We will meet again. 

WRIGHT SHOT TO DEATH WITH MUSKETRY. 

I saw a young boy about seventeen or eighteen years old, by 
the name of Wright, and belonging to General Marcus J. Wright's 
brigade, shot to death with musketry at this place. The whole 
of Cheatham's Division had to march out and witness the horrid 
scene. Now, I have no doubt that many, if not all, would have 
gone without being forced to do so, but then you know that was 
Bragg's style. He wanted always to display his tyranny, and to 
intimidate his privates as much as possible. The young man was 
hauled in a wagon, sitting on his coffin, to the place where the 
grave was to be dug, and a post was planted in the ground. He 
had to sit there for more than two hours, looking on at the prep- 
arations for his death. I went up to the wagon, like many others, 
to have a look at the doomed man. He had his hat pulled down 
over his eyes, and was busily picking at the ends of his fingers. 
The guard who then had him in charge told me that one of the 
culprit's own brothers was one of the detail to shoot him. I 
went up to the wagon and called him, " Wright!" He made no 
reply, and did not even look up. Then I said, " Wright, why 
6 



74 SHELBYVILLE. 

don't you jump out of that wagon and run ? " He was callous to 
everything. I was sorry for him. When the division was all as- 
sembled, and the grave dug, and the post set, he was taken out of 
the wagon, and tied to the post. He was first tied facing the post, 
and consequently would have been shot in the back, but was after- 
wards tied with his back to the post. The Chaplain of the 
regiment read a chapter in the Bible, sang a hymn, and then all 
knelt down and prayed. General Wright went up to the pinioned 
man, shook hands with him, and told him good-bye, as did many 
others, and then the shooting detail came up, and the officer in 
charge gave the command, "Ready, aim, fire!" The crash of 
musketry broke upon the morning air. I was looking at Wright. 
I heard him almost shriek, " O, O, God ! " His head dropped 
forward, the rope with which he was pinioned keeping him from 
falling. I turned away and thought how long, how long will I 
have to witness these things ? 

DAVE SUBLETT PROMOTED. 

While at Shelbyville, a vacancy occurring in Captain Ledbet- 
ter's company, the Rutherford Rifles, for Fourth Corporal, Dave 
Sublett became a candidate for the position. Now, Dave was a 
genius. He was a noble and brave fellow, and at one time had 
been a railroad director. He had a distinguished air always 
about him, but Dave had one fault, and that was, he was ever 
prone to get tight. He had been a Union man, and even now he 
always had a good word to say for the Union. He was sincere, 
but eccentric. The election for Fourth Corporal was drawing 
nigh. Dave sent off and got two jugs of spirits vini frumenti, and 
treated the boys. Of course, his vote would be solid. Every 
man in that company was going to cast his vote for him. Dave 
got happy and wanted to make a speech. He went toihe butch- 
er's block which was used to cut up meat on — he called it Butch- 
ers' Hall — got upon it amid loud cheering and hurrahs of the 
boys. He spoke substantially as follows: 

"Fellow-citizens — I confess that it is with feelings of diffidence 
and great embarrassment on my part that I appear before you on 



SHELBYVILLE. 75 

this occasion. But, gentlemen and fellow-citizens, I desire to 
serve you in an humble capacity, as Fourth Corporal of Compa- 
ny I. Should you see cause to elect me, no heart will beat with 
more gratitude than my own. Gentlemen, you well know that I 
was ever a Union man : 

m 

'A union of lakes, and a union of lands, 

A union that no one can sever; 
A union of hearts, and a union of hands, 

A glorious union forever.' 

[Cheers and applause.] 

"Fellow-citizens, I can look through the dim telescope of the 
past and see Kansas, bleeding Kansas, coming like a fair young 
bride, dressed in her bridal drapery, her cheek wet and moistened 
with the tears of love. 1 can see iier come and knock gently at the 
doors of the Union, asking for admittance. [Wild cheering.] 
Looking further back, I can see our forefathers of the revolution 
baring their bosoms to the famine of a seven years' war, making 
their own bosoms a breastwork against the whole hosts of King 
George III. But, gentlemen, as I before remarked, I desire to 
ask at your hands the high, distinguished and lucrative office, ray 
fellow-citizens, and for which I will ever feel grateful — the office 
of Fourth Corporal in your company." [Cheers.] 

Now, Dave had a competitor who was a States' Rights Demo- 
crat. If I mistake not, his name was Frank Haliburton. Now, 
Frank was an original secessionist. He felt that each Stite was 
a separate, sovereign governn)ent of it-elf, and that the South had 
the same rights in the territories as they of the North. He was 
fighting for secession and State rights upon prin(;iple. When 
Subletl had finished his speech, Frank took the stand and said : 

"Gentlemen and fellow-citizens — 1 am a candidate for Fnurth 
Corporal, and if you will elect me I will be grateful, and will serve 
you to the best of my ability. My competitor seems to harp con- 
siderably upon his Union record, and Union love. If I mistake 
not, my fellow-citizens, it was old George McDnffie that stood up 
in the Senate chamber of the United States and said, * When I 
hear the shout of * glorious Union,' methinks I hear the shout of 



■jQ SHELBYVILLE. 

a robber gang.' McDuffie saw through his prophetic vision the 
evils that would result, and has foretold them as if by inspiration 

from above. , . 

"Fellow-citizens, under the name of Union our country is in- 
vaded to-day. 

"These cursed Yankees are invading our country, robbing our 
people, and desolating our land, and all under the detestable and 
damning name of Union. Our representatives in Congress have 
been fighting them for fifty years. Compromise after compro- 
mise has been granted by the South. We have used every effort 
to conciliate those at the North. They have turned a deaf ear to 
every plea. They saw our country rich and prosperous, and have 
come imleed, like a gang of rol)bers, to steal our property and 
murder our people. Kiit, fellow-citizens, I for one am ready to 
meet tVem, and desire that you elect me Fourth Corporal of Com- 
pany I, so that I can serve you in a more efficient mannor, while 
we meet as a band of brothers, the cursed horde of Northern 
Hessians and liirclings. I thank you for your attention, gentle- 
men, and would thank you for your votes." 

Well, the election came of!, and Dave was elected by an oyer- 
whelmintr majority. But the high eminence of military distinc- 
tion enthralled him. He seemed to live in an atmosphere of 
greatness and glory, and was looking eagerly forward to the time 
^hen he would command armies. He had begun to climb the 
ladder of glory under most favorable and auspidous circumstances. 
He felt his fo'nsequence and keeping. He was detailed once, and 
only once, to take command of the third relief of camp guard. 
Ah, this thing of office was a big thing. He desired to hold a 
council of war with Generals Bragg, Polk, Hardee, and Kirby 
Smith. He first visited General Polk. His war metal was up. 
He wanted a fight just then and there, and a fight he must have, 
at all hazards, and to the last extremity. He became obstreper- 
ous, when General Polk called a guard and had him marched oflf 
to the guard house. It was then ordered that he shouhl do extra 
fatigue duty for a week. The guard would take him to the woods 
with an ax, and he would make two or three chops on a tree and 
look up it and say : 



8HELBYVILLE. 77 

"Woodman, spare that tree ; touch not a single bough ; 
In youth it sheltered me, and I '11 protect it now." 

He would then go to another tree; but at no tree would he make 
more than two or three licks before he would go to another. He 
would hit a limb and then a log ; would climb a tree and cut at 
a limb or two, and keep on this way until he came to a hard old 
stump, which on striking his ax would bound and spring back. 
He had found his desire; the to|) of that stump became fun and 
pleasure. Well, his time of misdemeanor expired and he was re- 
lieved. He went back and reported to Colonel Field, who in- 
formed him that he had been reduced to the ranks. He drew 
himself up to his full height and said: "Colonel,! regret ex- 
ceedingly to be so soon deprived of my new fledged honors that I 
have won on so many a hard fought and bloody battlefield, but 
if I am reduced to the ranks as a private soldier, I can but ex- 
claim, like Moses of old, when he crossed the Red Se-i in defiance 
of Pharaoh's hosts, ' O, how the mighty have fallen ! '" He then 
marched oflf with the air of the born soldier. 

DOWN DUCK RIVER IN A CANOE. 

" Ora pro nobis." 

At this place, Duck river wended its way to Columbia. On one 
occasion it was up — had on its Sunday clothes — a booming. An- 
dy Wilson and I thought that we would slip off and go down the 
river in a canoe. We got the canoe and started. It was a leaky 
<3raft. We had not gone far before the thing capsized, and we 
swam ashore. But we were outside of the lines now, and without 
passes. (We would have been arrested anyhow.) So we put our 
sand paddles to work and landed in Columbia that night. I 
loved a maid, and so did Andy, and some poet has said that love 
laughs at grates, bars, locksmiths, etc. I ('o not know how true 
this is, but I do know that when I went to see my sweetheart 
that night I asked her to pray for me, because I thought the 
prayers of a pretty woman would go a great deal further " up 



78 SHELBYVILLE. 

yonder " than mine would. I also met cousin Alice, another beau- 
tiful woman, at my father's front gate, and told her that she must 
pray for me, because I knew I would be court-martialed as soon 
as I got back ; that I had no idea of deserting the army and only 
wanted to see the maid I loved. It took me one day to go to 
Columbia and one day to return, and I stayed at home only one 
day, and went back of my own accord. When I got back to 
Shelby ville, I was arrested and carried to the guard- house, and 
when court-martialed was sentenced to thirty days' fatigue duty 
and to forfeit four months' pay at eleven dollars per mouth, mak- 
ing forty-four dollars. Now, you see how dearly I paid for that 
trip. But, fortunately forme, General LecnidasPolk had issued 
an order that very dciy promising pardon to all soldiers absent 
without leave if they would return. I got the guard to march 
me up to his headquarters and told him of my predicament, and 
he ordered my release, but said nothing of remitting the fine. So 
when we were paid off at Chattanooga I was left out. The Con- 
federate States of America was richer by forty-four dollars. 

" SHENEEAL OWLEYDOUSKY." 

General Owleydousky, lately imported from Poland, was 
Bragg's Inspector General. I remember of reading in the news- 
papers of where he tricked Bragg at last. The i)apers said he 
stole all of Bragg's clothes one day and left for parts unknown. 
It is supposed he went back to Poland to act as " Ugh! Big In- 
dian ; fight heap mit Bragg." But I suppose it must have left 
Bragg in a bad fix — somewhat like Mr. Jones, who went tn ask 
the old folks fi r Miss Willis. On being told that she was a very 
poor girl, and had no property for a start in life, he simply said, 
"All right; all I want is the naked girl." 

On one occasion, while inspeciing the arms and accoutrements of 
our rejiiment, when he came to inspect Company H he vsaid, 
"Shentlempns, vat for you make de pothook out of de sword and 
de bayonet, and trow de cartridge-box in de mud? I dust re- 
port you to Sheneral Bragg. Mine gracious!" Approaching 
Orderly Sergeant John T. Tucker, and lifting the flap of his car- 



SHELBYVILL-E. 79 

tridge-box, which was empty, he said, " Bah, bah, raon Dieu ; I 
dust know dot you ish been hunting de squirrel and de rabbit- 
Mon Dieu ! you sharge yourself rait fifteen tollars for wasting 
sixty cartridges at twenty-five cents apiece. Bah, bah, raon Dieu ; 
I dust report you to Sheneral Bragg." Approaching Sergeant 
A. S. Horsley, he said, " Vy ish you got nodings rait your knap- 
sack ? Sir, you must have somedings rait your knapsack." Alf 
ran into his tent and carae back with his knapsack in the right 
shape. Well, old Owleydousky thought he would be smart and 
make anexampleof Alf, and said, " I vish to inspect your clodings." 
He took AlPs knapsack and on opening it, what do you suppose was 
in it? Well, if you are not a Yankee and good at guessing, I 
will tell you, if you won't say anything about it, for Alf might get 
mad if he were to hear it. He found Webster's Unabridged Die- 
tionary, Cruden's Concordance, Macauley's History of England, 
Jean Valjean, Fantine, Cosset, Les Miserables, The Heart of 
Midlothian, Ivanhoe, Guy Mannering, Rob Roy, Shakspere, the 
History of Ancient Rome, and many others which I have now 
forgotten. He carried literature for the regiment. He is in the 
same old business yet, only now he furnishes literature by the 
car load. 



80 CHATTANOOGA. 



CHAP. VIII.— CHATTANOOGA. 



BACK TO CHATTANOOGA. 

Rosencrans' army was in motion. The Federals were' advanc- 
ing, but as yet they were afar off. Chattanooga must be fortified. 
Well do we remember the hard licks and picks that we spent 
on these same forts, to be occupied afterwards by Grant and his 
whole array, and we on Lookout Mountain and Missionary Ridge 
looking at them. 

AM VISITED BY MY FATHER. 

About this time ray father paid rae a visit. Rations were 
mighty scarce. I was raighty glad to see him, but ashamed to 
let hira know how poorly off for soraething to eat we were. We 
were living on parched corn. I thought of a happy plan to get 
him a good dinner, so I asked him to let us go up to the Colonel's 
tent. Says I, " Colonel Field, I desire to introduce you to my 
father, and as rations are a little short in my mess, I thought you 
might have a little better, and could give him a good dinner." 
"Yes," says Colonel Field, " I am glad to make the acquaintance 
of your father, and will be glad to divide my rations with him. 
Also, I would like you to stay and take dinner with me," which 
I assure you, O kind reader, I gladly accepted. About this time a 
young African, Whit, came in with a frying-pan of parched corn 
and dumped it on an old oil cloth, and said, "^ Master, dinner is 
ready." That was all he had. He was living like ourselves — 
on parched corn. 

We continued to fortify and build breastworks at Chattanooga. 
It was the same drudge, drudge day by day. Occasionally a 
Sunday would corae; but when it did come, there came inspec- 
tion of arras, knapsacks and cartridge-boxes. Every soldier had 
to have his gun rubbed up as bright as a new silver dollar. W. 



CHATTANOOGA. 81 

A. Hughes had the brightest gun in the army, and always called 
it "Florence Fleming." The private soldier had to have on 
clean clothes, and if he had lost any cartridges he was charged 
twenty- five cents each, and had to stand extra duty for every car- 
tridge lost. We always dreaded Sunday. The roll was called 
more frequently on this than any other day. Sometimes we 
would have preaching. I remember one text that I tliought the 
bottom had been knocked out long before: " And Peter's wife's 
mother lay sick of a fever." That text always did make a deep 
impression on me, 1 always thought of a young divine who 
preached it when first entering the ministry, and in about twenty 
years came back, and happening to preach from the same text 
again, an old fellow in the congregation said, " Mr. Preacher, 
ain't that old woman dead yet ?" Well, that was the text that was 
preached to us soldiers one Sunday at Chattanooga. I could not 
help thinking all the time, "Ain't that old woman dead yet?" 
But he announced that he would preach again at 3 o'clock. We 
went to hear him preach at 3 o'clock, as his sermon was so inter- 
esting about "Peter's wife's mother lay sick of a fever." We 
thought, may be it was a sort of sickly subject, and he would 
liven us up a little in the afternoon service. 

Well, he took his text, drawled out through his nose like 
"small sweetness long drawn out": " M-a-r-t-h-a, thou art 
w-e-a-r-i-e-d and troubled about many things, but M-a-r-y hath 
chosen that good part that shall never be taken from her." Well, 
you see, O gentle and fair reader, that I remember the text these 
long gone twenty years. I do not remember what he preached 
about, but I remember thinking that he was a great ladies' man, 
at any rate, and whenever I see a man who loves and respects the 
ladies, I think him a good man. 

The next sermon was on the same sort of a text : " And the Lord 
God caused a deep sleep to fall on Adam and took out of" — he 
stopped here and said e meant out of, that e, being translated 
from the Latin and Greek, meant out of, and took e, or rather 
out of a rib and formed woman. I never did know why he ex- 
paciated so largely on e; don't understand it yet, but you see, 
reader mine, that I remember but the little things that happened 



82 CHATTANOOGA. 

in that stormy epoch. I remember the e part of the sermon 
more distinctly than all of his profound eruditions of theology, 
dogmas, creeds and evidences of Christianity, and I only write 
at this time from memory of thing that happened twenty years 
ago. 

"out a larking." 

At this place, we took Walter Hood out "a larking." The 
way to go "a larking" is this: Get an empty meal bag and 
about a dozen men and go to oome dark forest or open field on 
some cold, dark, frosty or rainy night, about five miles from camp. 
Get some one who does not understand the game to hold the bag 
in as stooping and cramped a position as is possible, to keep per- 
fectly still and quiet, and when he has got in the right fix, the 
others to go off to drive in the larks. As soon as they get out of 
sight, they break in a run and go back to camp, and go to sleep, 
leaving the poor fellow all tlie time holding the bag. 

Well, Walter was as good and as clever a fellow as you ever 
saw, was popular with everybody, and as brave and noble a fel- 
low as ever tore a cartridge, or drew a ramrod, or pulled a trig- 
ger, but was the kind of a boy that was easily "roped in" to 
fun or fight or anything that would come up. We all loved 
him. Poor fellow, he is up yonder — died on the field of glory 
and honor. He gave his life, 'twas all he had, for his country. 
Peace to his memory. That night we went "a larking," and 
Walter held the bag. I did not see him till next morning. 
While I was gulping down my coffee, as well as laughter, Walter 
came around, looking sort of sheepish and shy like, and I was 
trying to look as solemn as a Judge. Finally he came up to the 
fire and kept on eyeing me out of one corner of his eye, and 1 
was afraid to look at him for fear of breaking out in a laugh. 
When I could hold in no longer, I laughed out, and said, "Well, 
Walter, what luck, last night?" He was very much disgusted, 
and said, "Humph ! you all think that you are smart. I can't 
see anything to laugh at in such fooliphness as that." He said, 
" Here ; I have brought your bag back." That conquered me. 



CHATTANOOGA. 83 

After that kind and magnanimous act in forgiving me and bring- 
ing my bag back so pleasantly and kindly, I was his friend, 
and would have fought for him. I felt sorry that we had taken 
him out "a larking," 

HANGING TWO SPIES. 

I can now recall to memory but one circumstance that made a 
deep impression on my mind at the time. I heard that two spies 
were going to be hung on a certain day, and I went to the hang- 
ing. The scaffold was erected, two coffins were placed on the 
platform, the ropes were dangling from the cross beam above. I 
had seen men shot, and whipped, and shaved, and branded at 
Corinth and Tupelo, and one poor fellow named Wright shot at 
Shelbyville. They had all been horrid scenes to me, but they 
were Rebels, and like begets like. I did not know when it would 
be my time to be placed in (he same position, you see,, and "a 
fellow feeling makes us wondrous kind." I did not know 
what was in store in the future for me. Ah, there was the rub, 
don't you see. This shooting business wasn't a pleasant thing to 
think about. But Yankees — that was different. I wanted to 
see a Yankee spy hung. I wouldn't mind that. I would like 
to see him agonize. A spy; O, yes, they had hung one of our 
regiment at Pulaski — Sam Davis. Yes, I would see the hanging. 
After awhile I saw a guard approach, and saw two little boys in 
their midst, but did not see the Yankees that I had been looking 
for. The two little boys were rushed upon the platform. I 
saw that they were handcuffed. " Are they spies?" I was ap- 
palled ; I was horrified ; nay, more, I was sick at heart. One 
was about fourteen and the other about sixteen years old, I should 
judge. The ropes were promptly adjusted around their necks 
by the Provost Marshal. The youngest one began to beg and 
cry and plead most piteously. It was horrid. The older one 
kicked him, and told him to stand up and show the Rebels how 
a Union man could die for his country. Be a man ! The charges 
and specifications w^ere then read. The props were knocked out 
and the two boys were dangling in the air. I turned off sick at 
heart. ~» 



84 CHATTANOOGA. 



EATING RATS. 



While stationed at this place, Chattanooga, rations were very 
scarce and hard to get, and it was, perhaps, economy on th? part 
of our Generals and commissaries to issue rather scant rations. 

About this time we learned that Peraberton's army, stationed 
at Vicksburg, were subsisting entirely on rats. Instead of the 
idea being horrid, we were glad to know that "necessity is the 
mother of invention," and that the idea had originated in the 
mind of genius. We at once acted upon the information, and 
started out rat hunting ; but we couldn't find any rats. Presently 
we came to an old outhouse that seemed to be a natural harbor for 
this kind of vermin. The house was quickly torn down and out 
jumped an old residenter, who was old and gray. I suppose 
that he had been chased before. But we had jumped him and 
were determined to catch him, or "burst a boiler." After chas- 
ing him backwards and forwards, the rat finally got tired of this 
foolishness and started for his hole. But a rat's tail is the last 
that goes in the hole, and as he went in we made a grab for his 
tail. Well, tail hold broke, and we held the skin of his tail in 
our hand. But we were determined to have that rat. After 
hard work we caught him. We skinned him, washed and salted 
him, buttered and peppered him, and fried him. He actually 
looked nice. The delicate aroma of the frying rat came to our 
hungry nostrils. We were keen to eat a piece of rat; our teeth 
were on edge; yea, even our mouth watered to eat a piece of rat. 
Well, after a while, he was said to be done. I got a piece of 
cold corn dodger, laid my piece of the rat on it, eat a little piece 
of bread, and raised the piece of rat to my mouth, when I hap- 
pened to think of how that rat's tail did slip. I had lost ray ap- 
petite for dead rat. I did not eat any rat. It was my first and 
last effort to eat dead rats. 

SWIMMING THE TENNESSEE WITH ROASTINGEARS. 

The Tennessee River is about a quarter of a mile wide at 
Chattanooga. Right across the river was an immense corn-field. 



CHATTANOOGA. 85 

The green corn was waving with every little breeze that passed ; 
the tassels were bowing and nodding their heads; the pollen was 
flying across the river like little snow-drops, and everything 
seemed to say, "Come hither, Johnny Reb ; come hither, Johnny ; 
come hither." The river was wide, but we were hungry. The 
roastingears looked tempting. We pulled off our clothes and 
launched into the turbid stream, and were soon on the other 
bank. Here was the field, and here were the roastingears ; but 
where was the raft or canoe? 

We thouglit of old Abraham and Isaac and the sacrifice: " My 
son, gather the roastingears, there will be a way provided." 

We gathered the roastingears; we went back and gathered 
more roastingears, time and again. The bank was lined with 
green roastingears. Well, what was to be done? We began to 
shuck the corn. We would pull up a few shucks on one ear, 
and tie it to the shucks of another — first one and then another — 
until we had at least a hundred tied together. We put the train 
of corn into the river, and as it began to float off' we jumped 
in, and taking the foremost ear in our mouth, struck out for the 
other bank. Well, we made the landing all correct. 

I merely mention the above incident to show to what extremity 
soldiers would resort. Thousands of such occurrences were per- 
formed by the private soldiers of the Rebel army. 

AM DETAILED TO GO FORAGING. 

One day I was detailed to go. with a wagon train way down in 
Georgia on a foraging expedition. It was the first time since I 
had enlisted as a private that I had struck a good thing. No 
roll call, no drilling, no fatigue duties, building fortifications, 
standing picket, dress parade, reviews, or retreats had to be an- 
swered to — the same old monotonous roll call that had been an- 
swered five thousand times in these three years. I felt like a 
free man. The shackles of discipline had for a time been unfet- 
tered. This was blies, this was freedom, this was liberty. The 
sky looked brighter, the birds sang more beautiful and sweeter 
than I remember to have ever heard them. Even the little 



CD CHATTANOOGA. 

streamlets and branches danced and jumped along the pebbly 
beds, while the minnows pported and frollicked under the shin- 
ing ripples. The very flocks and herds in the pasture looked 
happy and gay. Even the screech of the wagons, that needed 
greasing, seemed to send forth a happy sound. It was fine, I 
tell you. 

The blackberries were ripe, and the roadsides were lined with 
this delicious fruit. The Lord said that he would curse the 
ground for the disobedience of man, and henceforth it should 
bring forth thorns and briars; but the very briars that had been 
cursed were loaded with the abundance of God's goodness, I 
felt, then, like David in one of his psalms — "The Lord is good, 
the Lord is good, for his mercy endureth forever." 

PLEASE PASS THE BUTTER. 

For several days the wagon train continued on until we had 
arrived at the part of country to which we had been directed. 
"Whether they bought or pressed the corn, I know not, but the 
old gentleman invited us all to take supper with him. If I have 
ever eaten a better supper than that I have forgotten it. They 
had biscuit for supper. What! flour bread ? Did my eyes deceive 
me? Well, there were biscuit — sure enough flour bread — and 
sugar and uofifee — genuine Rio — none of your rye or potato coffee, 
and butter— regular butter — and ham and eggs, and turnip greens, 
and potatoes, and fried chicken, and nice clean plates — none of 
your tin affairs — and a snow-white table-cloth and napkins, and 
white- handled knives and silver forks. At the head of the table 
was the madam, having on a pair of golden spectacles, and at the 
foot, the old gentlemen. He said grace. And, to cap the climax, 
two handsome daughters. I know that I had never seen two 
mor(! beautiful ladies. They had on little white aprons, trimmed 
with jaconet edging, and collars as clean and white as snow. 
They looked good enough to eat, and I think at that time I 
would have given ten years of my life to have kissed one of them. 
"We were invited to help ourselves. Our plates were soon filled 
with the tempting food and our tumblers with California beer. 



CHATTANOOGA. 87 

We would have liked it better had it been twice as strong, but 
what it lacked in strength we made up in quantity. The old 
lady said, " Daughter, hand the gentleman the butter." It was 
the first thing that I had refused, and the reason that I did 
so was because my plate was full already. Now, there is nothing 
that will offend a lady so quick as to refuse to take butter when 
handed to you. If you should say, " No, madam, I never eat 
butter," it is a direct insult to the lady of the house. Better, far 
better, for you to have remained at home that day. If you don't 
eat butter, it is an insult; if you eat too much, she will make 
your ears burn after you have left. It is a regulator of society ; 
it is a civilizer; it is a luxury and a delicacy that must be touched 
and handled with care and courtesy on all occasions. Should 
you desire to get on the good side of a lady, just give a broad, 
sweeping, slathering compliment to her butter. It beats kissing 
the dirty-faced baby ; it beats anything. Too much praise cannot 
be bestowed upon the butter, be it good, bad, or indifferent to 
your notions of things, but to her, her butter is always good, 
superior, excellent. I did not knew this characteristic of the 
human female at the time, or I would have taken a delicate slice 
of the butter. Here is a sample of the colloquy that followed : 

"Mister, have some butter?" 

"Not any at present, thank you, madam." ^ 

"Well, I insist upon it; our butter is nice." 

" O, I know it's nice, but my plate is full, thank you." 

" Well, take some anyhow." 

One of the girls spoke up and said : 

" Mother, the gentleman don't wish butter." 

" Well, I want him to know that our butter is clean, anyhow." 

" Well, madam, if you insist upon it, there is nothing that I 
love so well as warm biscuit and butter. I'll thank you for the 
butter." 

I dive in. I go in a little too heavy. The old lady hints in a 
delicate way that they sold butter. I dive in heavier. That 
cake of butter was melting like snow in a red hot furnace. The 
old lady says, " We sell butter to the soldiers at a mighty good 
price." 



88 CHATTANOOGA. 

I dive in afresh. She says, "I get a dollar a pound for thatt 
butter," and I remark with a good deal of nonchalance, "Well, 
madam, it is worth it/' and dive in again. I did not marry one 
of the girls. 

WE EVACUATE CHATTANOOGA. 

One morning while sitting around our camp fires we heard a 
boom, and a botnb shell passed over our heads. The Yankee 
array was right on the other bank of the Tennessee river. Bragg 
did not know of their approach until the cannon fired. 

Rosencrans' army is crossing the Tennessee river. A part are 
already on Lookout mountain. Some of their cavalry scouts had 
captured some ot our forajjing parties in Wills Valley. The air 
was full of flying rumors. Wagons are being packed, camps are 
broken up, and there is a general hubbub everywhere. But your 
old soldier is always ready at a moment's notice. The assembly 
is sounded ; form companies, and we are ready for a march, or a 
fight, or a detail, or anything. If we are marched a thousand 
miles or tA'enty yards, it is all the same. The private S(Jdier is 
a machine that has no right to know anything. He is a machine 
that moves without any volition of his own. If Edison could in- 
vent a wooden man that could walk and load and shoot, then you 
would have a good sample of the private soldier, and it would 
have this advantage — the private soldier eats and the wooden 
man would not. 

We left Chatlanooga, but whither bound we knew not, and 
cared not; but we marched toward Chickamauga and crossed at 
Lee & Gordon's mill. 

"the B17LL OP THE WOODS." 

On our way to Lafayette from Lee & Gordon's mill, I remem- 
ber a ludicrous scene, almost bordering on sacrilege, Rosen- 
crans' army was very near us, and we expected before three days 
elapsed to be engaged in battle. In fact, we knew there must be 
a fight or a foot race, one or the other. We could smell, as it 
were, "the battle afar off." 

One Sabbath morning it was announced that an eloquent and 



CHATTANOOGA. 89 

able LL.D., from Nashville, was going to preach, and as the oc- 
casion was an exceedingly solemn one, we were anxious to hear 
this divine preach from God's Holy Word ; and as he was one of 
the " big ones," the whole array was formed in close column and 
stacked their arms. The cannon were parked, all pointing back 
towards Chattanooga. The scene looked weird and picturesque. 
It was in a dark wilderness of woods and vines and overhanging 
limbs. In fact, it seemed but the home of the owl and the bat, 
and other varmints that turn night into day. Everything looked 
solemn. The trees looked solemn, the scene looked solemn, the 
men looked solemn, even the horses looked solemn. You may 
be sure, reader, that we felt solemn. 

The Reverend LL.D. had prepared a regular war sermon be- 
fore he left home, and of course had to preach it, appropriate or 
not appropriate; it was in him and had to come out. He opened 
the service with a song. I did remember the piece that was 
sung, but right now I cannot recall it to memory; but as near as 
I can now recollect here is his prayer, verbatim et literatim : 

"Oh, Thou immaculate, invisible, eternal, and holy Being, the 
exudations of whose effulgence illuminates this terrestrial sphere, 
we approach Thy presence, being covered all over with wounds 
and bruises and putrifying sores, from the crowns of our heads 
to the soles of our feet. And Thou, O Lord, art our dernier re- 
sort. The whole world is one great machine, managed by Thy 
puissance. The beatific splendors of Thy face irradiate the celes- 
tial region and felicitate the saints. There are the most exuber- 
ant profusions of Thy grace, and the sempiternal efflux of Thy 
glory. God is an abyss of light, a circle whose center is every- 
where and His circumference nowhere. Hell is the dark world 
made up of spiritual sulphur and other ignited ingredients, disu- 
nited and unharmonized, and without that pure balsamic oil that 
flows from the heart of God." 

When the old fellow got this far, I lost the further run of his 
prayer, but regret very much that I did so, because it was so 
grand and fine that I would have liked very much to have kept 
such an appropriate prayer for posterity. In fact, it lays it on 
heavy over any prayer I ever heard, and I think the new trans- 
7 



90 CHATTANOOGA. 

lators ought to get it and have it put in their book as a sample 
prayer. But they will have to get the balance of it from the emi- 
nent LL.D. In fact, he was so "high larnt" that I don't think 
any one understood him but the Generals. The Colonels might 
every now and then have understood a word, and maybe a few of 
the Captains and Lieutenants, because Lieutenant Lansdown told 
me he understood every word the preacher said, and further in- 
formed me that it was none of your one-horse, old-fashioned coun- 
try prayers that privates knew anything about, but was bang-up, 
first-rate, orthodox. 

Well, after singing and praying, he took his text. I quote en- 
tirely from memory. " Blessed be the Lord God, who teaches 
my hands to war and my fingers to fight." Now, reader, that was 
the very subject we boys did not want to hear preached on — on 
that ocf>asion at least. We felt like some other subject would 
have suited us bett'er. I forget how he coma^enced his sermon, 
but I remember that after he got warmed up a little, he began to 
pitch in on the Yankee nation, and gave them particular fits as to 
their geneology. He said that we of the South had descended 
from the royal and aristocratic blood of the Huguenots of France, 
and of the Cavaliers of England, etc. ; but that the Yankees were 
the descendants of the crop-eared Puritans and witch burners, 
who came over in the Mayflower, and settled at Plymouth Rock. 
He was warm on this subject, and waked up the echoes of the for- 
est. He said that he and his brethren would fight the Yankees in 
this world, and if God permit, chase their frightened ghosts in 
the next, through fire and brimstone. 

About this time we heard the awfullest racket, produced by 
some wild animal tearing tiirough the woods towards us, and the 
cry, " Look out ! lookout! hooie! hooie ! hooie ! look out! "and 
there came running right through our midst a wild bull, mad 
with terror and fright, running right over and knocking down 
the divine, and scattering Bibles and hymn books in every di- 
rection. The services were brought to a close without the dox- 
ology. 

This same brave Chaplain rode along with our brigade, on an 
old string-halted horse, as we advanced to attack at Chickaraauga 



CHATTANOOGA. 91 

exhorting the boys to be brave, to aim low, and to kill the Yan- 
kees as if they were wild beasts. He was eloquent and patriotic. 
He stated that if he only had a j2;un he too would go along as a 
private soldier. You could hear his voice echo and re-echo over 
the hills. He had worked up his patriotism to a pitch of genu- 
ine bravery and daring that I had never seen exhibited, when 
fliff, fluff, fluff, fluff, FLUFF, FLUFF— a whir, a boom! and a 
shell screams through the air. The Reverend LL.D. stops to lis- 
ten, like an old sow when she hears the wind, and says, "Re- 
member, boys, that he who is killed will sup to-night in Para- 
dise." Some soldier hallooed at the top of his voice, " Well, Par- 
son, you come along and take supper with us." Boom! whir! 
a bomb burst, and the parson at that moment put spurs to his 
horse and was seen to limber to the rear, and almost every sol- 
dier yelled out, "The parson isn't hungry, and never eats supper." 
I remember this incident, and so does every member of the First 
Tennessee Regiment. 

PRESENTIMENT, OR THE WING OF THE ANGEL OF DEATH. 

Presentiment is always a mystery. The soldier may at one 
moment be in good spirits, laughing and talking. The wing of 
the death angel touches him. He knows that his time has come. 
It is but a question of time with him then. He knows that his 
days are numbered. I cannot explain it. God has numbered the 
hairs of our heads, and not a sparrow falls without His knowl- 
edge. How much more valuable are we than many sparrows. 

We had stopped at Lee & Gordon's mill, and gone into camp 
for the night. Three days' rations were being issued. When 
Bob Stout was given his rations he refused to take them. His 
face wore a serious, woe- begone expression. He was asked if he 
was sick, and said " No," but added, "Boys, my days are num- 
bered, my time has come. In three days from to-day, I will be 
lying right yonder on that hillside a corpse. Ah, you may laugh ; 
my time has come. I've got a twenty dollar gold piece in my 
pocket that I 've carried through the war, and a silver watch 
that my father sent me through the lines. Please take them off 



92 CHATTANOOGA. 

when I am dead, and give them to Captain Irvine, to give to my 
father when he gets back home. Here are my clothing and 
blanket that any one who wishes them may have. My rations I 
do not wish at all. My gun and cartridge-box I expect to die 
with." 

The next morning the assembly sounded about two o'clock. 
We commenced our march in the darkness, and marched twenty- 
five miles to a little town by the name of Lafayette, to the relief 
of General Pillow, whose command had been attacked at that 
place. After accomplishing this, we marched back by another 
road to Chickamauga. We camped on the banks of Chickamau- 
ga on Friday night, and Saturday morning we commenced to cross 
over. About 12 o'clock we had crossed. No sooner had we 
crossed than an order came to double quick. General Forrest's 
cavalry had opened the battle. Even then the spent balls were 
falling amongst us with that peculiar thud so familiar to your old 
soldier. 

Double quick ! There seemed to be no rest for us. Forrest is 
needing reinforcements. Double quick, close up in the rear! siz, 
siz, double quick, boom, hurry up, bang, bang, a rattle de bang, 
bang, siz, boom, boom, boom, hurry up, double quick, boom, 
bang, halt, front, right dress, boom, boom, and three soldiers are 
killed and twenty wounded. Billy Webster's arm was torn out 
by the roots and he killed, and a fragment of shell buried itself 
in Jim McEwin's side, also killing Mr. Fain King, a conscript 
from Mount Pleasant. Forward, guide center, march, charge 
bayonets, fire at will, commence firing. (This is where the LL.D. 
ran.) We debouched through the woods, firing as we marched, 
the Yankee line about two hundred yards off. Bang, bang, siz, 
siz. It was a sort of running fire. We kept up a constant fire 
as we advanced. In ten minutes we were lace to face with the 
foe. It was but a question as to who could load and shoot the 
fastest. The army was not up. Bragg was not ready for a gen- 
eral battle. The big battle was fought the next day, Sunday. 
We held our position for two hours and ten minutes in the midst 
of a deadly and galling fire, being enfiladed and almost sur- 
rounded, when General Forrest galloped up and said, "Colonel 



CHATTANOOGA. 93 

Field, look out, you are almost surrounded; you had better fal 
back.'* The order was given to retreat. I ran through a solid 
]ine of blue coats. As I fell back, they were upon the right of 
usj they were upon the left of us, they were in front of us, they 
were in the rear of us. It was a perfect hornets' nest. The balls 
whistled around our ears like the escape valves of ten thousand 
iengines. The woods seemed to be blazing; everywhere, at every 
jump, would rise a lurking foe. But to get up and dust was all 
we 'could do. I was running along by the side of Bob Stout. 
General Preston Smith stopped me and asked if our brigade was 
falling back. I told him it was. He asked me the second time 
if it was Maney's brigade that was falling back. I told him it 
was. I heard him call out, " Attention, forward ! " One solid 
sheet of leaden hail was falling around me. I heard General 
Preston Smith's brigade open. It seemed to be platoons of ar- 
tillery. The earth jarred and trembled like an earthquake. 
Deadly missiles were flying in every direction. It was the very 
incarnation of death itself. I could almost hear the shriek of the 
death angel passing over the scene. General Smith was killed in 
ten minutes after I saw him. Bob Stout and myself stopped. 
Said I, " Bob, you wern't killed, as you expected." He did not 
reply, for at that very moment a solid shot from the Federal guns 
struck him between the waist and the hip, tearing off one leg and 
scattering his bowels all over the ground. I heard him shriek 
out, "O, O, God!" His spirit had flown before his body struck 
the ground. Farewell, friend; we will meet yonder. 

When the cannon ball struck Billy Webster, tearing his arm 
out of the socket, he did not die immediately, but as we were ad- 
vancing to the attack, we left him and the others lying where 
they fell upon the battlefield ; but when we fell back to the place 
where we had left our knapsacks, Billy's arm had been dressed 
by Dr. Buist, and he seemed to be quite easy. He asked Jim 
Forgey to please write a letter to his parents at home. He 
wished to dictate the letter. He asked me to please look in his 
knapsack and get him a clean shirt, and said that he thought he 
would feel better if he could get rid of the blood that was upon 
him. I went to hunt for his knapsack and found it, but when I 



94 CHATTANOOGA. 

got back to where he was, poor, good Billy Webster was dead. 
He had given his life to his country. His spirit is with the good 
and brave. No better or braver man than Billy Webster ever 
drew the breath of life. His bones lie yonder to-day, upon the 
battlefield of Chickaraauga. I loved him; he was my friend. 
Many and many a dark night have Billy and 1 stood together 
upon the silent picket post. Ah, reader, my heart grows sick and 
I feel sad while I try to write ray recollections of that unholy 
and uncalled for war. But He that ruleth the heavens doeth all 
things well. 



CHICKAMAUGA. 95 



CHAP. IX.— CHICKAMAUGA. 

BATTLE OF CHICKAMAUGA. 

Sunday morning of that September day, the sun rose over the 
eastern hills clear and beautiful. The day itself seemed to have 
a Sabbath-day look about it. The battle-field was in a rough 
and broken country, with trees and undergrowth, that ever since 
the creation had never been disturbed by the ax of civilized man. 
It looked wild, weird, uncivilized. * 

Our corps (Polk's), being in the engagement the day before, 
were held in reserve. Reader, were you ever held in reserve of 
an attacking army ? To see couriers dashing backward and for- 
ward; to hear the orders given to the brigades, regiments and 
companies; to see them forward in line of battle, the battle-flags 
waving; to hear their charge, and then to hear the shock of bat- 
tle, the shot and shell all the while sizzing, and zipping, and 
thudding, and screaming, and roaring, and bursting, and passing 
right over your heads ; to see the litter corps bringing back the 
wounded continually, and hear them tell how their command was 
being cut to pieces, and that every man in a certain regiment was 
killed, and to see a cowardly Colonel (as we saw on this occasion 
— he belonged to Longstreet's corps), come dashing back, look- 
ing the very picture of terror and fear, exclaiming, "O, men, 
men, for God's sake go forward and help my men! they are 
being cut all to pieces ! we can't hold our position. O, for 
God's sake please go and help my command V To hear some of 
our boys ask, "What regiment is that? What regiment is that?" 
He replies, such and such regiment. And then to hear some fel- 
low ask, " Why ain't you with them, then, you cowardly puppy? 
Take off that coat and those chicken guts; coo, sheep; baa, baa, 
black sheep ; flicker, flicker ; ain't you ashamed of yourself? 
flicker, flicker; I've got a notion to take my gun and kill him," 
etc. Every word of this is true ; it actually happened. But all 



96 CHICKAMAUGA. 

that could demoralize, and I may say intimidate a soldier, was 
being enacted, and he not allowed to participate. How we were 
moved from one position to another, but always under fire ; our 
nerves strung to their utmost tension, listening to the roar of 
battle in our immediate front, to hear it rage and* then get dim- 
mer until it seems to die out entirely ; then all at once it breaks 
out again, and you think now in a very few minutes you will be 
ordered into action, and then all at once we go double-quicking 
to another portion of the field, the battle raging back from the 
position we had left. General Leonidas Polk rides up and hap- 
pening to stop in our front, some of the boys halloo out, "Say, 
General, what command is that which is engaged now?" The 
General kindly aliswers, "That is Longstreet's corps. He is 
driving them this way, and we will drive them that way, and 
crush them between the 'upper and nether millstone.'" Turning 
to General Cheatham, he said, " General move your division and 
attack at once." Everything is at once set in motion, and Gen- 
eral Cheatham, to give the boys a good send-off, says " Forward, 
boys, and give 'em h — 1." General Polk also says a good word, 
and that word was, " Do as General Cheatham says, boys." ("i^u 
know he was a preacher and couldn't curse). After marching in 
solid line, see-sawing, right obliqueing, left obliqueing, guide 
center and close up; commence firing — fire at will ; charge and 
take their breastworks : our pent up nervousness and demorali- 
zation of all day is suddenly gone. We raise one long, loud, 
cheering shout and charge right upon their breastworks. They 
are pouring their deadly missiles into our advancing ranks from 
under their head- logs. We do not stop to look around to see 
who is killed and wounded, but press right up their breastworks, 
and plant our battle-flag upon it. They waver and break and 
run in every direction, when General John C. Breckinridge's 
division, which had been supporting us, march up and pass us 
in full pursuit of the routed and flying Federal army. 

AFTER THE BATTLE. 

We remained upon the battle-field of Chickamauga all night. 
Everything had fallen into our hands. We had captured a great 



CHICKAMAUGA. 97 

many prisoners and small arms, and many pieces of artillery and 
wagons an<l provisions. The Confederate and Federal dead, 
wounded, and dying were everywhere scattered over the battle- 
field. Men were lying where they fell, shot in every conceivable 
part of the body. Some with their entrails torn out and still 
hanging to them and piled up on the ground beside them, and 
they still alive. Some with their under jaw torn off, and hang- 
ing by a fragment of skin to their cheeks, with their tongues 
lolling from their mouth, and they trying to talk. Some with 
both eyes shot out, with one eye hanging down on their cheek. 
In fact you might walk over the battle-field and find men shot 
from the crown of the head to the tip end of the toe. And then 
to see all those dead, wounded and dying ho»'ses, their heads and 
tails drooping, and they seeming to be so intelligent as if they 
^comprehended everything. I felt like shedding a tear for those 
innocent dumb brutes. 

Reader, a battle field, after the battle, is a sad and sorrowful 
sight to look at. The glory of war is but the glory of battle, 
the shouts, and cheers, and victory. 

A soldier's life is not a pleasant one. It is always, at best, 
one of privations and hardships. The emotions of patriotism 
and pleasure hardly counterbalance the toil and suffering that he 
has to undergo in order to enjoy his patriotism and pleasure. 
Dying on the field of battle and glory is about the easiest duty 
a soldier has to undergo. It is the living, marching, fighting, 
shooting soldier that has the hardships of war to carry. When 
a brave soldier is killed he is at rest. The living soldier knows 
not at what moment he, too, may be called on to lay down his 
life on the altar of his country. The dead are heroes, the living 
are but men compelled to do the drudgery and suffer the priva- 
tions incident to the thing called " glorious war." 

A NIGHT AMONG THE DEAD. 

We rested on our arms where the battle ceased. All around 
us everywhere were the dead and wounded, lying scattered over 
the ground, and in many places piled in heaps. Many a sad and 



98 CHICKAMAUGA. 

heart-rending scene did I witness upon this battle field of Chiek- 
amtmga. Our men died the death of heroes. I sometimes think 
that surely our brave men have not died in vain. It is true, our 
cause is lost, but a people who loved those brave and noble 
heroes should ever cherish their memory as men who died for 
them. I shed a tear over their memory. They gave their all to 
their country. Abler pens than mine must write their epitaphs, 
and tell of their glories and heroism. I am but a poor writer, at 
best, and only try to tell of the events that 1 saw. 

One scene I now remember, that I can imperfectly relate. 
While a detail of us were passing over the field of death and 
blood, with a dim lantern, looking for our wounded soldiers to 
carry to the hospital, we came across a group of ladies, looking 
among the killed and wounded for their relatives, when I heard 
one of (he ladies say, " There they come with their lanterns." I 
approached the ladies and asked them for whom were they look- 
ing. They told me the name, but I have forgotten it. We 
passed on, and coming to a pile of our slain, we had turned over 
several of our dead, when one of the ladies screamed out, "O, 
there he is! Poor fellow! Dead, dead, dead ! " She ran to the 
pile of slain and raised the dead man's head and placed it on her 
lap and began kissing him and saying," O, O, they have killed 
my darling, my darling, my darling! O, mother, mother, what 
must I do! My poor, poor darling! O, they have killed him, 
they have killed him!*' I could witness the scene no longer. I 
turned and walked away, and William A. Huu;hes was crying, 
and remarked, " O, law me; this war is a terrible thing." We 
left them and began again hunting for our wounded. All through 
that long September night we continued to carry off our wounded, 
and when the morning sun arose over the eastern hills, the order 
came to march to Missionary Ridge. 



MISSIONARY RIDGE. 99 



CHAP. X.— MISSIONARY RIDGE. 



MISSIONARY RIDGE. 

After retreating from Chickamauga, the Yankees attempted to 
re-form their broken lines on Missionary Ridge. We advanced 
to attack them, but they soon fell back to Chattanooga. We 
knew they were in an impregnable position. We had built those 
breastworks and forts, and knew whereof we spoke. We stopped 
on Missionary Ridge, and gnashed our teeth at Chattanooga. I 
do not know what our Generals thought ; I do not know what the 
authorities at Richmond thought, but I can tell you what the 
privates thought. But here we were on Missionary Ridge and 
Lookout Mountain, looking right down into Chattanooga. We 
had but to watch and wait. We would starve them out. 

The Federal army had accomplished their purpose. They 
wanted Chattanooga. They laughed at our triumph, and mocked 
at our victory. They got Chattanooga. " Now, where are you, 
Johnny Reb? What are you going to do about it? You've got 
the dry grins, arn't you? We've got the key; when the proper 
time comes we '11 unlock your doors and go in. You are going 
to starve us out, eh ? We are not very hungry at present, and 
we don't want any more pie. When. we starve out we'll call on 
you for rations, but at present we are not starving, by a jug full; 
but if you want any whisky or tobacco, send over and we will 
give you some. We 've got all we wanted, and assure you we are 
satisfied." 

The above remarks are the supposed colloquy that took place 
between the two armies. Bragg, in trying to starve the Yankees 
out, was starved out himself Ask any old Rebel as to our bill 
of fare at Missionary Ridge. In all the history of the war, I 
cannot remember of more privations and hardships than we went 



100 MISSIONARY RIDGE. 

through at Missionary Ridge. And when in the very acme of 
our privations and hunger, when the army was most dissatisfied 
and unhappy, we were ordered into line of battle to be reviewed 
by Honorable Jefferson Davis. Wiie» he passed by us, with his 
great retinue of staff officers and play-outs at full gallop, cheers 
greeted them, with the words, " Send us something to eat, Massa 
Jeff. Give us something to eat, Massa Jeff. I'm hungry I I 'm 
hungry ! " « ' 

SERGEANT TUCKER AND GENERAL WILDER. 

At this place the Yankee outpost was on one side of the Ten- 
nessee river, and ours on the other. I was on the detail one Sun- 
day commanded by Sergeant John T. Tucker. When we were 
approaching we heard the old guard and the Yankee picket talk- 
ing back and forth across the river. The new guard immediate- 
ly resumed the conversation. We had to halloo at the top of our 
voices, the river being about three hundred yards wide at this 
point. But there was a little island about the middle of the river. 
A Yankee hallooed out, " O, Johnny, Johnny, meet me half way 
in the river, on the island." " All right," said Sergeant Tucker, 
who immediately undressed all but his hat, in which he carried 
the Chattanooga Rebel and some other Southern newspapers, and 
swam across to the island. When he got there the Yankee was 
there, but the Yankee had waded. I do not know what he and 
John talked about, but they got very friendly, and John invited 
him to come clear across to our side, which invitation he accepted. 
I noticed at the time that while John swam, the Yankee waded, 
remarking that he couldn't swim. The river was but little over 
wasit deep. Well, they came across and we swapped a few lies, 
canteens and tobacco, and then the Yankee went back, wading all 
the way across the stream. That man was General Wilder, com- 
manding the Federal cavalry, and at the battle of Missionary 
Ridge he threw his whole division of cavalry across the Tennes- 
see river at that point, thus flanking Bragg's army, and opening 
the battle. He was examining the ford, and the swapping busi- 
ness was but a mere by-play. He played it sharp, and Bragg had 
to get further. 



MISSIONARY KIDGE. 101 



MOCCASIN POINT. 



Maney's brigade fortified on top of Lookout Mountain. From 
this position we could see five States. The Yankees had built a 
fort across the river, on Moccasin Point, and were throwing shells 
at us continually. I have never seen such accurate shooting in 
my life. Tt was upon the principle of shooting a squirrel out of 
a tree, and they had become so perfect in their aim, that I believe 
they could have killed a squirrel a mile off. We could have killed 
a great many artillery men if we had been allowed to shoot, but 
no private soldier was ever allowed to shoot a gun on his owu 
hook. If he shot at all, it must be by the order of an officer, for 
if just one cartridge was shot away or lost, the private was 
charged twenty-five cents for it, and had to do extra duty, and I 
don't think our artillery was ever allowed to fire a single shot un- 
der any circumstances. Our rations were cooked up by a special 
detail ten miles in the rear, and were sent to us every three days, 
and then those three days' rations were generally eaten up at one 
meal, and the private soldier had to starve the other two days and 
a half. Never in all my whole life do I remember of ever ex- 
periencing so much oppression and humiliation. The soldiers 
were starved and almost naked, and covered all over with lice 
and camp itch and filth and dirt. The men looked sick, hollow- 
eyed, and heart-broken, living principally upon parched corn, 
which had been picked out of the mud and dirt under the feet of 
officers' horses. We thought of nothing but starvation. 

The battle of Missionary Ridge was opened from Moccasin Point, 
while we were on Lookout Mountain, but I knew nothing of the 
movements or maneuvers of either army, and only tell what part 
I took in the battle. 

BATTLE OF MISSIONARY RIDGE. 

One morning Theodore Sloan, Hog Johnson, and I were stand- 
ing picket at the little stream that runs along at the foot of Look- 
out Mt)untain. In fact, I would be pleased to name our Captain, 
Fulcher, and Lieutenant Lansdown, of the guard on this occasion. 



102 MISSIONARY RIDGE. 

because we acted as picket for the whole three days' engagement 
without being relieved, and haven't been relieved yet. But that 
battle has gone into history. We heard a Yankee call, " O, 
Johnny, Johnny Reb ! " I started out to meet him as formerly, 
when he hallooed out, " Go back, Johnny, go back ; we are or- 
dered to fire on you." " What is the matter? Is your army go- 
ing to advance on us ? " " I don't know ; we are ordered to fire.' 
I jumped back into the picket post, and a minnie ball ruined the 
only hat I had ; another and another followed in quick succes- 
sion, and the dirt flew up in our faces off our little breast- 
works. Before night the picket line was engaged from one end to 
the other. If you had only heard it, dear reader. It went like 
ten thousand wood- choppers, and an occasional boom of a cannon 
would remind you af a tree falling. We could hear Colonels giv- 
ing commands to their regiments, and could see very plainly the 
commotion and hubbub, but what was up, we were unable to tell. 
The picket line kept moving to our right. The second night found 
us near the tunnel, and right where two railroads cross each other, 
or rather one runs over the other high enough for the cars to pass 
under. We could see all over Chattanooga, and it looked like 
myriads of blue coats swarming. 

Day's and Mannigault's brigades got into a night attack at the 
foot of Lookout Mountain. I could see the whole of it. It 
looked like lightning bugs on a dark night. But about midnight 
everything quieted down. Theodore Sloan, Hog Johnson and 
myself occupied an old log cabin as vidette. We had not slept 
any for two nights, and were very drowsy, I assure you, but we 
knew there was something up, and we had to keep awake. The 
next morning, nearly day, I think I had dropped off into a pleas- 
ant doze, and was dreaming of more pretty things than you ever 
saw in your life, when Johnson touched me and whispered, " Look? 
look, there are three Yankees; must I shoot?" I whispered 
back " Yes." A bang ; " a waugh " went a shriek. He had got 
one, sure. Everything got quiet again, and we heard nothing 
more for an hour. Johnson touched me again and whispered, 
" Yonder they come again ; look, look ! " I could not see them ; 
was too sleepy for that. Sloan could not see them, either. John- 



MISSIONARY RIDGE. 103 

son pulled down, and another unearthly squall rended the night 
air. The streaks of day had begun to glimmer over Missionary 
Ridge, and I could see in the dim twilight the Yankee guard not 
fifty yards off. Said I, "Boys, let's fire into them and run." 
We took deliberate aim and fired. At that they raised, I thought, 
a mighty sickly sort of yell and charged the house. We ran out, 
but waited on the outside. We took a second position where the 
railroads cross each other, but they began shelling us from the 
river, when we got on the opposite side ot the railroad and they 
ceased. 

I know nothing about the battle; how Grant, with one wing, 
went up the river, and Hooker's corps went down Wilis Valley, 
etc. I heard fighting and commanding and nuisketry all day 
long, but I was still on picket. Balls were passing over our 
heads, both coming and going. I could not tell whether I was 
standing picket for Yankees or Rebels. I knew that the Yan- 
kee line was between me and the Rebel line, for I could see the 
battle right over the tunnel. We had been placed on picket at 
the foot of Lookout Mountain, but we were five miles from that 
place now. If I had tried to run in I couldn't. I had got sepa- 
rated from Sloan and Johnson somehow; in fact, was waiting 
either for an advance of the Yankees, or to be called in by the 
captain of the picket. I could see. the blue coats fairly lining 
Missionary Ridge in my rear. The Yankees were swarming ev- 
erywhere. They were passing me all day with their dead and 
wounded, going back to Chattanooga. No one seemed to notice 
me; they were passing to and fro, cannon, artillery, and every- 
thing. I was willing to be taken prisoner, but no one seemed 
disposed to do it. I was afraid to look at them, and I was afraid 
to hide, for fear some one's attention would be attracted toward, 
me. I wished I could make myself invisible. J think I was in- 
visible. I felt that way anyhow. I felt like the boy who wanted 
to go to the wedding, but hud no shoes. Cassabianca never had 
such feelings as I had that livelong day. 

Say, Captain, say, if yet my task be done ? 
And yet the sweeping waves rolled on. 
And answered neither yea nor nay. 



104 MISSIONARY RIDGE. 

About two or three o'clock, a column of Yankees advancing to 
the attack swept right over where I was standing. I was trying 
to stand aside to get out of their way, but the more I tried to get 
out of their way, the more in their way I got. I was carried for- 
ward, I knew not whither. We soon arrived at the foot of the 
ridge, at our old breastworks. I recognized Robert Brank's old 
corn stalk house, and Alf Horsley's fort, an old log house called 
Fort Horsley. I was in front of the enemy's line, and was afraid 
to run up the ri«lge, and afraid to surrender. They were ordered 
to charge up the hill. There was no firing from the Rebel lines 
in our immediate front. They kept climbing and pulling and 
scratching until I was in touching distance of the old Rebel 
breastworks, right on the very apex of Missionary Ridge. I made 
one jump, and I heard Captain Turner, who had the very four 
Napoleon guns we had captured at Perry ville, halloo out, " Num- 
ber Four, solid ! " and then a roar. The next order was, "Lim- 
ber to the rear." The Yankees were cutting and slashing, and 
the cannoneers were running in every direction. I saw Day's 
brigade throw down their guns and break like quarter horses. 
Bragg was trying to rally thera. I heard him say, " Here is your 
commander," and the soldiers hallooed back, " Here is your 
mule." 

The whole army was routed. I ran on down the ridge, and 
there was our regiment, the First Tennessee, with their guns 
stacked, and drawing rations as if nothing was going on. Says I, 
"Colonel Field, what's the matter? The whele army is routed 
and running ; hadn't you better be getting away from here ? The 
Yankees are not a hundred yards from here. Turner's Battery 
has surrendered. Day's brigade has thrown down their arms; and 
, look yonder, that is the Stars and Stripes." He remarked very 
coolly, " You seem to be demoralized. We've whipped them 
here. We've captured two thousand prisoners and five stands of 
colors." , 

Just at this time General Bragg and staff rode up. Bragg had 
joined the Church at Shelbyville, but he had back-slid at Mis- 
sionary Ridge. He^was cursing like a sailor. Says he, "What's 
this? Ah, ha, have you stacked your arms for a surrender?" 



MISSIONARY RIDGE. 105 

" No, sir," says Field. '^ Take arras, shoulder arms, by the right 
flank, file right, march," just as cool and deliberate as if on dress 
parade. Bragg looked scared. He had put spurs to his horse, 
and was running like a scared dog before Colonel Field had a 
chance to answer him. Every word of this is a fact. We at 
once became the rear guard of the whole army.* 

I felt sorry for General Bragg. The army was routed, and 
Bragg looked so scared. Poor fellow, he looked so hacked and 
whipped and mortified and chagrined at defeat, and all along the 
line, when Bragg would pass, the soldiers would raise the yell, 
''Here is your mule;" "Bully for Bragg, he's h — 1 on retreat." 

Bragg was a good disciplinarian, and if he had cultivated the 
love and respect of his troops by feeding and clothing them bet- 
ter than they were, the result would have been different. More 
depends on a good General than the lives of many privates. 
The private loses his life, the General his country. 

GOOD-BYE, TOM WEBB. 

As soon as the order was given to march, we saw poor Tom 
Webb lying on the battle-field shot through the head, his blood 
and brains smearing his face and clothes, and he still alive. He 
was as brave and noble a man as our Heavenly Father, in His 
infinite wisdom, ev^er made. Everybody loved him. He was a 
universal favorite of the company and regiment; was brave and 
generous, and ever anxious to take some other man's place when 
there was any skirmishing or fighting to be done. We did not 
wish to leave the poor fellow in that condition, and A. S. Horsley, 
John T. Tucker, Tennessee Thompson and myself got a litter 
and carried him on our shoulders through that livelong night 
back to Chickamauga Station. The next morning Dr. J. E. 
Dixon, of Deshler's brigade, passed by and told us that it would 
be useless for us to carry him any further, and that it was utterly 
impossible for him ever to recover. The Yankees were then 

*I remember of General Maney meeting Gary. I do not know who Gary 
was, but Maney and Gary seemed to be very glad to see each other. Every time 
I think of that retreat I think of G:ary, 



106 MISSIONARY EIDGE. 

advancing and firing upon us. What could we do? We could 
not carry him any further, and we could not bury him, for he 
was still alive. To leave him where he was we thought best. 
We took hold of his hand, bent over him and pressed our lips to 
his — all four of us. We kissed him good-bye and left him to 
the tender mercies of the advancing foe, in whose hands he would 
be in a few moments. No doubt they laughed and jeered at the 
dying Rebel. It mattered not what they did, for poor Tom Webb's 
spirit, before the sun went down, was with God and the holy 
angels. He had given his all to his country. O, how we missed 
him. It seemed that the very spirit and life of Company H had 
died with the death of good, noble, and brave Tom Webb. 

I thank God that I am no infidel, and I feel and believe that 
I will again see Tom Webb. Just as sure and certain, reader, as 
you are now reading these lines, I will meet him up yonder — I 
know I will. 

THE REAR GUARD. 

When we had marched about a mile back in the rear of the 
battle-field, we were ordered to halt so that all stragglers might 
pass us, as we were detailed as the rear guard. While resting on 
the road side we saw Day's brigade pass us. They were gunless, 
cartridge-boxless, knapsackless, canteenless, and all other military 
accoutermentsless, and swordless, and officerless, and they all 
seemed to have the 'possom grins, like Bragg looked, and as they 
passed our regiment, you never heard such fun made of a parcel 
of soldiers in your life. Every fellow was yelling at the top of 
his voice, " Yaller-hammer, Alabama, flicker, flicker, flicker, 
yaller-hammer, Alabama, flicker, flicker, flicker." I felt sorry 
for the yellow-hammer Alabamians, they looked so hacked, and 
answered back never a word. When they had passed, two pieces 
of artillery passed us. They were the only two pieces not cap- 
tured at Missionary Ridge, and they were ordered to immediately 
precede us in bringing up the rear. The whole rear guard w^as 
placed under the command of the noble, generous, handsome and 
brave General Gist, of South Carolina. I loved General Gist, 



MISSIONARY RIDGE. 107 

and when I mention his name tears gather in my eyes. I think, 
he was the handsomest man I ever knew. 

Our army was a long time crossing the railroad bridge ac'oss 
Chickamauga river. Maney's brigade, of Cheatham's division, 
and General L. E. Polk's brigade, of Cleburne's division, formed 
a sort of line of battle, and had to wait until the stragglers had all 
passed. I remember looking at them, and as they passed I could 
read the character of every soldier. Some were mad, others 
cowed, and many were laughing. Some were cursing Bragg, 
some the Yankees, and some were rejoicing at the defeat. I can- 
not describe it. It was the first deleat our army had ever suf- 
fered, but the prevailing sentiment was anathemas and denuncia- 
tions hurled against Jefi Da,vis for ordering Longstreet's corps to 
Knoxville, and sending off Generals Wheeler's and Forrest's 
cavalry, while every private soldier in the whole army knew that 
the enemy was concentrating at Chattanooga. 

CHICKAMAUGA STATION. 

When we arrived at Chickamauga Station, our brigade and 
General Lucius E. Polk's brigade, of Cleburne's division, were 
left to set fire to the town and to burn up and destroy all those 
immense piles of army stores and provisions which had been ac- 
cumulated there to starve the Yankees out of Chattanooga. 
Great piles of corn in sacks, and bacon, and crackers, and molas- 
ses, and sugar, and coffee, and rice, and potatoes, and onions, and 
peas, and flour by the hundreds of barrels, all now to be given to 
the flames, while for months the Rebel soldiers had been stinted 
and starved for the want of these same provisions. It was enough 
to make the bravest and most patriotic soul that ever fired a gun 
in defense of any cause on earth, think of rebelling against the 
authorities as they then were. Every private soldier knew these 
stores were there, and for the want of them we lost our cause. 

Reader, I ask you who you think was to blame ? Most of our 
army had already passed through hungry and disheartened, and 
here were all these stores that had to be destroyed. Before set- 
ting fire to the town, every soldier in Maney's and Polk's brig- 



108 MISSTOXARY RIDGE. 

ades loaded himself down with rations. It was a laughable 
looking rear guard of a routed and retreating army. Every one 
of us had cut open the end of a corn sack, emptied out the corn, 
and filled it with hard-tack, and, besides, every one of us had a 
side of bacon hung to our bayonets on our guns. Our canteens, 
and clothes, and faces, and hair were all gummed up with molas- 
ses. Such is the picture of our rear guard. Now, reader, if you 
were ever on the rear guard of a routed and retreating army, 
you know how tedious it is. You don't move more than ten feet 
at furthest before you have to halt, and then ten feet again a 
few minutes afterwards, and so on all day long. You haven't 
time to sit down a moment before you are ordered to move on 
again. And the Yankees dash up every now and then, and fire 
a volley into your rear. Now that is the way we were marched 
that livelong day, until nearly dark, and then the Yankees began 
to crowd us. We can see their line forming, and know we have 
to fight. 

THE BATTLE OF CAT CREEK. 

About dai4c a small body of cavalry dashed in ahead of us 
and captured and carried off one piece of artillery and Colonel 
John F. House, General Maney's Assistant Adjutant-General. 
We will have to form line of battle and drive them back. Well, 
we quickly form line of battle, and the Yankees are seen to 
emerge from the woods about two hundred yards from us. We 
promptly shell off those sides of bacon and sacks of hard-tack 
that we had worried and tugged with all day long. Bang, bang, 
siz, siz. We are ordered to load and fire promptly and to hold 
our position. Yonder they come, a whole division. Our regi- 
ment is the only regiment in the action. They are crowding us; 
our poor little handful of men are being killed and wounded by 
scores. There is General George Maney badly wounded and be- 
ing carried to the rear, and there is Moon, of Fulcher's battalion, 
killed dead in his tracks. We can't much longer hold our posi- 
tion. A minnie ball passes through my Bible in my side pocket. 
All at once we are ordered to open ranks. Here comes one piece 



MISSIONARY RIDGE. 109- 

of artillery from a Mississippi battery, bouncing ten feet high, 
over brush and logs and bending down little trees and saplings, 
under whip and spur, the horses are champing the bits, and are 
muddied from head to foot. Now, quick, quick; look, the Yan- 
kees have discovered the battery, and are preparing to charge it. 
Unliraber, horses and caisson to the rear. No. 1 sharpnel, load, 
fire — boom, boom ; load, ablouyat — boom, boom. I saw Sam Seay 
fall badly wounded and carried to the rear. I stopped firing 
to look at Sergeant Doyle how he handled his gun. At every 
discharge it would bounce, and turn its muzzle completely to the 
rear, when those old artillery soldiers would return it to its place 
— and it seemed they fired a shot almost every ten seconds. 
Fire, men. Our muskets roll and rattle, making music like the 
kettle and bass drum combined. They are checked; we see 
them fall back to the woods, and night throws her mantle over 
the scene. We fell back now, and had to strip and wade 
Chickamauga river. It came up to our armpits, and was as cold 
as charity. We had to carry our clothes across on the points of 
our bayonets. Fires had been kindled every few yards on the 
other side, and we soon got warmed up again. 

RINGGOLD GAP. 

I had got as far as Ringgold Gap, when I had unconsciously 
fallen asleep by a fire, it being the fourth night that I had not 
slept a wink. Before I got to this fire, however, a gentleman 
whom I never saw in my life — because it was totally dark at the 
time — handed me a letter from the old folks at home, and a good 
suit of clothes. He belonged to Colonel Breckinridge's cavalry, 
and if he ever sees these lines, I wish to say to him, " God bless 
you, old boy." I had lost every blanket and vestige of clothing, 
except those I had on, at Missionary Ridge. I laid down by the 
fire and went to sleep, but how long I had slept I knew not, 
when I felt a rough hand grab me and give me a shake, and the 
fellow said, " Are you going to sleep here, and let the Yankees 
cut your throat?" I opened my eyes, and asked, "Who are 
you ?" He politely and pleasantly, yet profanely, told me that 



110 MISSIONARY RIDGE. 

he was General Walker (the poor fellow was killed the 22ncl of 
July, at Atlanta), and that I had better get further. He passed 
on and waked others. Just then, General Cleburne and staff 
rode by me, and I heard one of his staff" remark, "General, here 
is a ditch, or gully, that will make a natural breastwork." All 
I heard General Cleburne say was, " Eh, eh, eh !" I saw Gen- 
eral Lucius E. Polk's brigade form on the crest of the hill. 

I went a little further and laid down again and went to sleep. 
How long I had lain there, and what was passing over me, I 
know nothing about, but when I awoke, heie is what I saw : I 
saw a long line of blue coats marching down the railroad track. 
The first thought I had was, well, I'm gone up now, sure ; but 
on second sight, I discovered that they were prisoners. Cleburne 
had had the doggondest fight of the war. The ground was piled 
with dead Yankees ; they were piled in heaps. The scene looked 
unlike any battle-field I ever saw. From the foot to the top of 
the hill was covered with their slain, all lying on their faces. 
It had the appearance of the roof of a house shingled with dead 
Yankees. They were flushed with victory and success, and had 
determined to push forward and capture the whole of the Rebel 
army, and set up their triumphant standard at Atlanta — then 
exit Southern Confederacy. But their dead were so piled in 
their path at Ringgold Gap that they could not pass them. The 
Spartans gained a name at Thermopylae, in which Leonidas and 
the whole Spartan army were slain while defending the pass. 
Cleburne's division gained a name at Ringgold Gap, in which 
they not only slew the victorious army, but captured five thou- 
sand prisoners besides. That brilliant victory of Cleburne's, 
made him not only the best General of the army of Tennessee, 
and covered his men with the glory and honor of heroes, but 
checked the advance of Grant's whole army. 

We did not budge an inch further for many a long day, but 
we went into winter quarters right here at Ringgold Gap, Tunnel 
Hill and Dalton. 



DALTON. Ill 



CHAP. XI.— DALTON. 



GENERAL JOSEPH E. JOHNSTON. 



General Joseph E. Johnston now took command of the army. 
General Bragg was relieved, and had become JefF Davis' war ad- 
viser at Richmond, Virginia. We had followed General Bragg 
all through this long war. We had got sorter used to his ways, 
but he was never popular with his troops. I felt sorry for him. 
Bragg's troops would have loved him, if he had allowed them to 
do so, for many a word was spoken in his behalf, alter h'e had 
been relieved of the command. As a General I have spoken of 
him in these memoirs, not personally. I try to state facts, so that 
you may see, reader, why our cause was lost. I have no doubt 
that Bragg ever did what he thought best. He was but a man, 
under the authority of another. 

But now, allow me to introduce you to old Joe. Fancy, if you 
please, a man about fifty years old, rather small of stature, but 
firmly and compactly built, an open and honest countenance, and 
a keen but restless black eye, that seemed to read your very in- 
most thoughts. In his dress he was a perfect Handy. He ever 
wore the very finest clothes that could be obtained, carrying out 
in every point the dress and paraphernalia of the soldier, as 
adopted by the War Department at Richmond, never omitting 
anything, even to the trappings of his horse, bridle, and saddle. 
His hat was decorated with a star and feather, his coat with ev- 
ery star and embellishment, and he wore a bright new sash, big 
gauntlets, and silver spurs. He was the very picture of a gen- 
eral. 

But he found the army depleted by battles ; and worse, yea, 
much worse, by desertion. The men were deserting by tens and 
hundreds, and I might say by thousands. The morale of the 
army was gone. The spirit of the soldiers was crushed, their hope 



112 DALTON. 

gone. The future was dark and gloomy. They M'ould not an- 
swer at roll call. Discipline had gone. A feeling of mistri.st 
pervaded the whole army. 

A train load of provisions came into Dalton. The soldiers 
stopped it before it rolled into the station, burst open every car, 
and carried off all the bacon, meal, and flour that was on board. 
Wild riot was the order of the day; everything was confusion 
worse confounded. When the news came, like pouring oil upon 
the troubled waters, that General Joe E. Johnston, of Virginia, 
had taken command of the Army of Tennessee, men returned to 
their companies, order was restored, and " Richard was himself 
again." General Johnston issued a universal amnesty to all sol- 
diers absent without leave. Instead of a scrimp pattern of one 
day's rations, he ordered two days' rations to be issued, being ex- 
tra for one day. He ordered tobacco and whisky to be issued 
twice a week. He ordered sugar and coffee and flour to be issued 
instead of meal. He ordered old bacon and ham to be issued in- 
stead of blue beef. He ordered new tents and marquees. He or- 
dered his soldiers new suits of clothes, shoes, and hats. In fact, 
there had been a revolution, sure enough. He allowed us what 
General Bragg had never allowed mortal man — a furlough. He 
gave furloughs to one-third of his army at a time, until the whole 
had been furloughed. A new era had dawned ; a new epoch had 
been dated. He passed through the ranks of the common sol- 
diers, shaking hands with every one he met. He restored the sol- 
dier's pride ; he brought the manhood back to the private's 
bosom ; he changed the order of roll-call, standing guard, drill, 
and such nonsense as that. The revolution was complete. He 
was loved, respected, admired; yea, almost worshipped, by his 
troops. I do not believe there was a soldier in his army but 
would gladly have died for him. With him everything was his 
soldiers, and the newspapers, criticizing him at the time, said, 
" He would feed his soldiers if the country starved." 

We soon got proud ; the blood of the old Cavaliers tingled in 
our veins. We did not feel that we were serfs and vagabonds. 
We felt that we had a home and a country worth fighting for, 
and, if need be, worth dying for. One regiment could whip an 



D ALTON. 113 

army, and did do it, in every instance, before the command was 
taken from him at Atlanta. But of this another time. 

Chaplains were brought back to their regiments. Dr. C. T. 
Quintard and Rev. C. D. Elliott, and other Chaplains, held divine 
services every Sal)bath, prayer was offered every evening at re- 
treat, and the morale of the army was better in every respect. 
The private soldier once more regarded himself a gentleman and 
a man of honor. We were willing to do and die and dare any- 
thing for our loved South, and the Stars and Bars of the Confed- 
eracy. In addition to this, General Johnston ordered his soldiers 
to be paid up every cent that was due them, and a bounty of fifty 
dollars besides. He issued an order to his troops offering promo- 
tion and a furlough for acts of gallantry and bravery on the field 
of battle. 

The cloven foot of tyranny and oppression was not discernible 
in the acts of officers, from General clown to Corporal, as formerly. 
Notwithstanding all this grand transformation in our affairs, old 
Joe was a strict disciplinarian. Everything moved like clock- 
work. Men had to keep their arms and clothing in good order. The 
artillery was rubbed up and put in good condition. The wagons 
were greased, and the harness and hamestrings oiled. Extra 
rations were issued to negroes who were acting as servants, a thing 
unprecedented before in the history of the war. 

Well, old Joe was a yerker. He took all the tricks. He was 
a commander. He kept eyerything up and well in hand. His 
lines of battle were invulnerable. The larger his command, the 
easier he could handle it. When his army moved, it was a pic- 
ture of battle, everything in its place, as laid down by scientific 
military rules. When a man was to be shot, he was shot for the 
crimes he had done, and not to intimidate and cow the living, and 
he had ten times as many shot as General Bragg had. He had 
seventeen shot at Tunnel Hill, and a whole company at Rocky- 
face Ridge, and two spies hung at Ringgold Gap, but they were 
executed for their crimes. No one knew of it except those who 
had to take part as executioners of the law. Instead of the whip- 
ping-post, he instituted the pillory and barrel shirt. Get Brutus 
to whistle the barrel shirt for you. The pillory was a new fangled 



114 DALTON. 

concern. If you went to the guard-house of almost any regi- 
ment, you would see some poor fellow with his head and hands 
sticking through a board. It had the appearance of a fellow 
taking a running start, at an angle of forty-five degrees, with a 
view of bursting a board over his head, but when the board burst 
his head and both his hands were clamped in the bursted places. 
The barrel shirt brigade used to be marched on drill and parade. 
You could see a fellow's head and feet, and whenever one of the 
barrels would pass, you would hear the universal cry, " Come 
out of that barrel, I see your head and feet sticking out." There 
might have been a mortification and a disgrace in the pillory and 
barrel shirt business to those that had to use them, but they did 
not bruise and mutilate the physical man. When one of them 
had served out his time he was as good as new. Old Joe had 
greater military insight than any General of the South, not ex- 
cepting even Lee. He was the born soldier; seemed born to 
command. When his army moved it moved solid. Cavalry, ar. 
tillery, wagon train, and infantry stepped the same tread to the 
music of the march. His men were not allowed to be butchered 
for glory, and to ha\7e his name and a battle fought, with the 
number of killed and wounded, go back to Richmond for his own 
glory. When he fought, he fought for victory, not for glory. He 
could fall back right in the face of the foe as quietly and orderly 
as if on dress parade ; and when his enemies crowded him a little 
too closely, he would about face and give them a terrible chastise- 
ment. He could not be taken by surprise by any flank move- 
ment of the enemy. His soldiers were to him his children. He 
loved them. They were never needlessly sacrificed. He was 
always ready to meet the attack of the enemy. When his line of 
battle was formed it was like a wall of granite. His adversaries 
knew him, and dreaded the certain death that awaited them. His 
troops were brave ; they laughed in the face of battle. He had 
no rear guard to shoot down any one who ran. They couldn't 
run ; the army was solid. The veriest coward that was ever born 
became a brave man and a hero under his manipulation. His 
troops had the utmost confidence in him, and feared no evil. 
They became an army of veterans, whose lines could not be bro- 



DALTON. 115 

ken by the armies of the world. Battle became a pastime and a 
pleasure, and the rattle of musketry and roar of cannon were but 
the music of victory and success. 

COMMISSARIES. 

Before General Joseph E. Johnston took command of the Army 
of Tennessee, the soldiers were very poorly fed, it is true, but the 
blame was not entirely attributable to General Bragg. He issued 
enough and more than enough to have bountifully fed his army, 
but there was a lot of men in the army, generally denominated 
Commissaries, and their "gizzards," as well as fingers, had to be 
greased. There was Commissary-general, then Corps Commis- 
sary, then Division Commissary, then Brigade Commissary, then 
Regimental Commissary, then Company Commissary. Now, you 
know were you to start a nice hiudquarter of beef, which had to 
pass through all these hands, and every Commissary take a choice 
steak and roast off it, there would be but little ever reach the 
company, and the poor man among the Johnnies had to feast like 
bears in winter— they had to suck their paws — but the rich John- 
nies who had money could go to almost any of the gentlemen de- 
nominated Commissaries (they ought to have be?n called cormo- 
rants) and buy of them much nice fat beef and meal ani' flour 
and sugar and coffee and nice canvassed hams, etc. I have done 
it many times. They were keeping back the rations that had 
been issued to the army, and lining their own pockets. But when 
General Johnston took command, this manipulating business 
played out. Rations would "spile "on their hands. Othello's 
occupation was gone. They received only one hundred and 
forty dollars a month then, and the high private got plenty to eat, 
and Mr. Cormorant quit making as much money as he had here- 
tofore done. Were you to go to them and make complaint, they 
would say, " I have issued regular army rations to your company, 
and what is left over is mine," and they were mighty exact 
about it. 

DALTON. 

We went into winter quarters at Dalton, and remained there 
during the cold, bad winter of 1863-64 about four months. The 



116 DALTOJf. 

usual routine of araiy life was carried on day by day, with not 
many incidents to vary the monotony of camp life. But occa- 
sionally the soldiers would engage in a snow ball battle, in which 
Generals, Colonels, Captains, and privates all took part. They 
would usually divide off into two grand divisions, one line nat- 
urally becoming the attacking party, and the other the defensive. 
The snow balls would begin to fly hither and thither, with an 
occasional knock down, and sometimes an ugly wound, where 
some mean fellow had enclosed a rock In his snow ball. It was 
fun while it lasted, but after it was over the soldiers were wet, 
cold and uncomfortable. I have seen charges and attacks and 
routes and stampedes, etc., but before the thing was over, one 
side did not know one from the other. It was a y-eneral knock 
down and drag out affair. 

SHOOTING A DESERTER. 

One morning I went over to Deshler's brigade of Cleburne's 
division to see my brother-in-law. Dr. J. E. Dixon. The snow 
was on the ground, and the boys were hard at it, "snow-ball- 
ing." While I was standing looking on, a file of soldiers marched 
by me with a poor fellow on his way to be shot. He was blind- 
folded and set upon a stump, and the detail was formed. The 
command, " Ready, aim, fire ! " was given, the volley discharged, 
and the prisoner fell off the stump. He bad not been killed. It 
was the sergeant's duty to give the coup d'etat, should not the 
prisoner be slain. The sergeant ran up and placed the muzzle of 
his gun at the head of the poor, pleading, and entreating wretch, 
his gun was discharged, and the wretched man only powder- 
burnfd, the gun being one that had been loaded with powder 
only. The whole affair had to be gone over again. The soldiers 
had to reload and form and fire. The culprit was killed stone 
dead this time. He had no sooner been taken up and carried oflf 
to be buried, than the soldiers were throwing snow balls as hard 
as ever, as if nothing had happened. 

TEN MEN KILLED AT THE MOURNERS' BENCH. 

At this place (Dalton) a revival of religion sprang up, and there 
was divine service every day and night. Soldiers became serious 



DAT^TON. 117 

on the subject of their souls' salvation. In sweeping the streets 
and cleaning up, an old tree had been set on fire, and had been 
smoking and burning for several days, and nobody seemed to 
notice it. That night there was 5-ervice as usual, and the singing 
and sermon were excellent. The sermon was preached by Rev. 
J. G. Bolton, Chaplain of the Fiftieth Tennessee Regiment, as- 
sisted by Rev. C. D. Elliott, the services being held in the Fourth 
Tennessee Regiment. As it was the custom to "call up mourn- 
ers," a long bench had b( en placed in proper position for them 
to kneel down at. Ten of them were kneeling at this mourners' 
bench, pouring out their souls in prayer to God, asking Him for 
the forgiveness of their sins, and for the salvation of their souls, 
for Jesus Christ their Redeemer's sake, when the burning tree, 
without any warning, fell with a crash right across the ten mourn- 
ers, crushing and killing them instantly. God had heard their 
prayers. Their souls had been carried to Heaven. Hereafter, 
henceforth, and forevermore, there was no more marching, bat- 
tling, or camp duty for them. They had joined the army of the 
hosts of Heaven. 

By order of the General, they were buried with great pomp 
and splendor, that is, for those times. Every one of them was 
buried in a coffin. Brass bands followed, playing the " Dead 
March," and platoons fired over their graves. It was a soldier's 
funeral. The beautiful burial service of the Episcopal Church 
was read by Rev. Allen Tribble. A hymn was sung, and prayer 
offered, and then their graves were filled as we marched sadly 
back to camp. 

DE. C. T. QUINTARD. 

Dr. C. T. Quintard was our Chaplain for the First Tennessee 
Regiment during the whole war, and he stuck to us from the be- 
ginning even unto the end. During week days he ministered to 
us physically, and or? Sundays spiritually. He was one of the 
purest and best men I ever knew. He would march and carry 
his knapsack every day the same as any soldier. He had one 
text he preached from which I remember now. It was "the fly- 
ing scroll." He said there was a flying scroll continually pass- 



118 D ALTON. 

ing over our heads, which was like the reflections in a looking- 
glass, and all of our deeds, both good and bad, were written upon 
it. He was a good Doctor of Medicine, as well as a gocd Doctor 
of Divinity, and above either of these, he was a good man per se. 
Every old soldier of the First Tennessee Regiment will remem- 
ber Dr. C. T. Quintard with the kindest and most sincere emo- 
tions of love and respect. He would go off into the country and 
get up for our regiment clothing and provisions, and wrote a little 
prayer and song book, which he had published, and gave it to the 
soldiers. I learned that little prayer and song book off by heart, 
and have a copy of it in my possession yet, which I would not 
part with for any consideration. Dr. Quintard's nature was one 
of love. He loved the soldiers, and the soldiers loved him, and 
deep down in his heart of hearts was a deep and lasting love for 
Jesus Christ, the Redeemer of the world, implanted tiiere by God 
the Father Himself. 

Y 'S YOU GOT MY HOG ? 

One day, a party of "us privates" concluded we would go 
across the Conasauga river on a raid. We crossed over in a ca- 
noe. After traveling for some time, we saw a neat looking farm 
house, and sent one of the party forward to reconnoiter. He re- 
turned in a few minutes and announced that he had found a fine 
fat sow in a pen near the house. Now, the plan we formed was 
for two of us to go into the house and keep the inmates interested 
and the other was to toll and drive off the hog. I was one of the 
party which went into the house. There was no one there but 
an old lady and her sick and widowed daughter. They invited 
us in very pleasantly and kindly, and soon prepared us a very 
nice and good dinner. The old lady told us of all her troubles 
and trials. Her husband had died before the war, and she had 
three sons in the army, two of whom had' been killed, and the 
youngest, who had been conscripted, was taken with the camp 
fever and died in the hospital at Atlanta, and slie had nothing to 
subsist upon, after eating up what they then had. I was much 
interested, and remained a little while after my comrade had left. 



DALTON. 119 

I soon went out, having made up my mind to have nothing to do 
vvith the hog affair. I did not know how to act. I was in a bad 
fix. I had heard the gun fire and knew its portent. I knew the 
hog was dead, and went on up the road, and soon overtook my 
two comrades with the hog, which had been skinned and cut up, 
and was being carried on a pole between them. I did not know 
what to do. On looking back I saw the old lady coming and 
screaming at the top of her voice, "You got my hog! You got 
my hog ! " It was too late to back out now. We had the hog, 
and had to make the most of it, even if we did ruin a needy and 
destitute family. We went on until we came to the Conasauga 
river, when lo and behold ! the canoe was on the other side of the 
river. It was dark then, and getting darker, and what was to be 
done we did not know. The weather was as cold as blue blazes, 
and spitting snow from the northwest. That river had to be 
crossed that night. I undressed and determined to swim it, and 
went in, but the little thin ice at the bank cut my feet. I waded 
in a little further, but soon found I would cramp if I tried to 
swim it. I came out and put my clothes on, and thought of a 
gate about a mile back. We went back and took the gate off its 
hinges and carried it to the river and put it in the water, but 
soon found out that all three of us could not ride on it ; so one of 
the party got on it and started across. He did very well until he 
came to the other bank, which was a high bluft, and if he got off 
the center of the gate it would capsize and he would get a duck- 
ing. He could not get off the gate. I told him to pole the gate 
up to the bank, so that one side would rest on the bank, and then 
make a quick run for the bank. He thought he had got the gate 
about the right place, and then made a run, and the gate went 
under and so did he, in water ten feet deep. My comrade. Fount 
C, who was with me on the bank, laughed, I thought, until he 
had hurt himself; but with me, I assure you, it was a mighty 
sickly grin, and with the other one, Barkley J., it was anything 
but a laughing matter. To me he seemed a hero. Barkley did 
about to liberate me from a very unpleasant position. He soon 
returned with the canoe, and we crossed the river with the hog. 
We worried and tugged with it, and got it to camp just before 
daylight. 



120 DALTOX. 

I had a guilty conscience, I assure you. The hog was cooked, 
but I did not eat a piece of it. I felt that I had rather starve, 
and I believe that it would have choked me to death if I had at- 
tempted it. 

A short time afterward an old citizen from Maury county vis- 
ited me. My father sent me, by him, a silver watch — which I 
am wearing to-day — and eight hundred dollars in old issue Con- 
federate money. I took two hundred dollars of the money, and 
had it funded for new issue, 33^ cents discount. The other six 
hundred I sent to Vance Thompson, then on duty at Montgom- 
ery, with instructions to send it to my brother, Dave Watkins, 
uncle Asa Freeman, and J. E. Dixon, all of whom were in 
Wheeler's Cavalry, at some other point — I knew not where. 
After getting my money, I found that I had $133. 33J. I could 
not rest. I took one hundred dollars, new issue, and going by 
my lone self back to the old lady's house, I said, " Madam, some 
soldiers were here a short time ago, and took your hog. I was 
one of that party, and I wish to pay you for it. What was it 
worth?" "Well, sir," says she, "money is of no value to me; I 
cannot get any article that I wish ; I would much rather have 
the hog." Says I, "Madam, that is an impossibility; your hog 
is dead and eat up, and I have come to pay you for it." The old 
lady's eyes filled with tears. She said that she was perfectly 
willing to give the soldiers everything she had, and if she thought 
it had done us any good, she would not charge anything for it. 

" Well," says I, " Madam, here is a hundred dollar, new issue, 
Confederate bill. Will this pay you for your hog?" "Well, 
sir," she says, drawing herself up to her full height, her cheeks 
flushed and her eyes flashing, " I do not want your money. I 
would feel that it was blood money." I saw that there was no 
further use to offer it to her. I sat down by the fire and the 
conversation turned upon other subjects. 

I helped the old lady catch a chicken (an old hen — about the 
last she had), for dinner, went with her in the garden and pulled 
a bunch of eschalots, brought two buckets of water, and cut and 
brought enough Avood to last several days. 

After awhile, she invited me to dinner, and after dinner I sat 
down by her side, took her old hand in mine, and told her the 



DALTON. 121 

whole affair of the hog, from beginning to end; how sorry I was, 
and how I did not eat any of that hog ; and asked her as a spe- 
cial act of kindness and favor to me, to take the hundred dollars; 
that I felt bad about it, and if she would take it, it would ease 
my conscience. I laid the money on the table and left. I have 
never in my life made a raid upon anybody else. 

TARGET SHOOTING. 

By some hook, or crook, or blockade running, or smuggling, 
or Mason and Slidell, or Raphael Semmes, or something of the 
sort, the Confederate States Government had come in possession 
of a small number of Whitworth guns, the finest long range 
guns in the world, and a monopoly by the English Government. 
They were to be given to the best shots in the array. One day 
Captain Joe P. Lee and Company H went out to shoot at a tar- 
get for the gun. We all wanted the gun, because if we got it we 
would be sharpshooters, and be relieved from camp duty, etc. 

All the Generals and officers came out to see us shoot. The 
mark was put up about five hundred yards on a hill, and each of 
us had three shots. Every shot that was fired hit the board, but 
there was one man who came a little closer to the spot than any 
other one, and the Whitworth was awarded him ; and as we just 
turned round to go back to camp, a buck rabbit jumped up, and 
was streaking it as fast as he could make tracks, all the boys 
whooping and yelling as hard as they could, when Jimmy Web- 
ster raised his gun and pulled down on him, and cut the rabbit's 
head entirely off with a minnie ball right back of his ears. He 
was about two hundred and fifty yards off. It might have been 
an accidental shot, but General Leonidas Polk laughed very 
heartily at the incident, and I heard him ask one of his staff if 
the Whitworth gun had been awarded. The staff officer re- 
sponded that it had, and that a certain man in Colonel Farquhar- 
son's regiment — the Fourth Tennessee — was the successful con- 
testant, and I heard General Polk remark, "I wish I had an- 
other gun to give, I would give it to the young man that shot 
the rabbit's head off." 
9 



122 D ALTON. 

None of our regiment got a Whitworth, but it has been subse- 
quently developed that our regiment had some of the finest 
shots in it the world ever produced. For instance, George and 
Mack Campbell, of Maury county; Billy Watkins, of Nashville, 
and Colonel H. R. Field, and many others, who I cannot now 
recall to mind in this rapid sketch. 

UNCLE ZACK AND AUNT DAPHNE. 

While at this place, I went out one day to hunt some one to 
wash my clothes for me. I never was a good washerwoman. I 
could cook, bring water and cut wood, but never was much on 
the wash. In fact, it was an uphill business for me to wash up 
"the things" after "grub time" in our mess. 

I took my clothes and started out, and soon came to a little old 
negro hut. I went in and says to an old negress, " Aunty, I 
would like for you to do a little washing for me." The old crea- 
ture was glad to get it, as I agreed to pay her what it was worth. 
Her name was Aunt Daphne, and if she had been a politician, 
she would have been a success. I do not remember of a more 
fluent "conversationalist" in my life. Her tongue seemed to be 
on a balance, and both ends were trying to out-talk the other — 
but she was a good woman. Her husband was nanied Uncle 
Zack, and was the exact counterpart of Aunt Daphne. He al- 
ways sat in the chimney corner, his feet in the ashes, and gener- 
ally fast asleep. I am certain I never saw an uglier or more 
baboonish face in my life, but Uncle Zack was a good Christian, 
and I would sometimes wake him up to hear him talk Christian. 

He said that when he "fessed 'ligin, de debil come dare one 
nite, and say, * Zack, come go wid me,' and den de debil tek me 
to hell, and jes stretch a wire across hell, and hang me up jes 
same like a side of bacon, through the tongue. Well, dar I hang 
like de bacon, and de grease kept droppin' down, and would 
blaze up all 'round me. I jes stay dar and burn ; and after while 
de debil come 'round wid his gun, and say, 'Zack, I gwine to 
shoot you,' and jes as he raise de gun, I jes jerk loose from dat 
wire, and I jes fly to heben." 



D ALTON. 123 

" Fly ! did you have wings ?" 

"O, yes, sir, I had wings." 

" Well, after you got to heaven, what did you do then ?" 

" Well, I jes went to eating grass like all de balance of de 
lams." 

"What! were they eating grass?" 

"O, yes, sir." 

"Well, what color were the lambs. Uncle Zack?" 

" Well, sir, some of dem was white, and some black, and some 
spotted." 

"Were there no old rams or ewes among them ?" 

"^No, sir, dey was all lams." 

"Well, Uncle Zack, what sort of a looking lamb were you?" 

"Well, sir, I was sort of specklish and brown like?" 

Old Zack begins to get sleepy. 

" Did you have hornp. Uncle Zack ?" 

"Well, some of dem had little horns dat look like dey was jes 
sorter sproutin' like." 

Zack begins to nod and doze a little. 

" Well, how often did they shear the lambs,. Uncle Zack?" 

" Well, w-e- 1-1, w — e — 1 — 1 — ," and Uncle Zack was fast 
asleep and snoring, and dreaming no doubt of the beautiful pas- 
ture glimmering above the clouds of heaven. 

EED TAPE. 

While here I applied for a furlough. Now, reader, here com- 
menced a series of red tapeism that always had characterized the 
officers under Braggism. It had to go through every officer's 
hands, from Corporal up, before it was forwarded to the next of- 
ficer of higher grade, and so it passed through every officer's 
hands. He felt it his sworn and bound duty to find some infor- 
mality in it, and it was brought back for correction according to 
his notions, you see. Well, after getting the Corporal's consent 
and approval, it goes up to the Sergeant. It ain't right! Some 
informality, perhaps, in the wordiag and spelling. Then the 
Lieutenants had to have a say in it, and when it got to the 



124 DALTON. 

Captain, it had to be read and re-read, to see that every "i" was 
dotted and "t" crossed, but returned because there was one word 
that he couldn't make out. Then it was forwarded to the Colo- 
nel. He would snatch it out of your hand, grit his teeth, and 
say, " D — n it;" feel in his vest pocket and take out a lead pen- 
cil, and simply write " app." for approved. This would also be 
returned, with instructions that the Colonel must write "ap- 
proved" in a plain hand, and with pen and ink. Then it went 
to the Brigadier-General. He would be engaged in a game of 
poker, and would tell you to call again, as he didn't have time to 
bother with those small affairs at present. " I'll see your five 
and raise you ten." " I have a straight flush." " Take the pot." 
After setting him out, and when it wasn't his deal, I get up and 
walk around, always keeping the furlough in sight. After read- 
ing carefully the furlough, he says, "Well, sir, you have failed to 
get the Adjutant's name to it. You ought to have the Colonel 
and Adjutant, and you must go back and get their signatures." 
Alter this, you go to the Major-General. He is an old aristo- 
cratic fellow, who never smiles, and tries to look as sour as vine- 
gar. He looks at the furlough, and looks down at the ground, 
holding the furlough in his hand in a kind of dreamy way, and 
then says, "Well, sir, this all informal." You say, "Well, Gen- 
eral, what is the matter with it?" He looks at you as if he 
hadn't heard you, and repeats very slowly, "Well, sir, this is in- 
formal," and hands it back to you. You take it, feeling all the 
while that you wished you had not applied for a furlough, and by 
summoninfic all the fortitude that you possess, you say in a husky 
and choking voice, " Well, General (you say the " General " in a 
sort of gulp and dry swallow), what's the matter with the fur- 
lough ?" You look askance, and he very languidly re-takes the 
furlough and glances over it, orders his negro boy to go and feed 
his horse, asks his cook how long it will be before dinner, hal- 
looes at some fellow away down the hill that he would like 
for him to call at 4 o'clock this evening, and tells his Adjutant 
to sign the furlough. The Adjutant tries to be smart and polite, 
smiles a smole both childlike and bland, rolls up his shirt-sleeves, 
and winks one eye at you, gets astraddle of a camp-stool, whis- 



DALTON. 125 

ties a little stanza ot schottische, and with a big flourish of his 
pen^ writes the Major-General's name in small letters, and his 
own — the Adjutant's — in very large letters, bringing the pen 
under it with tremendous flourishes, and writes approved and 
iorwarded. You feel relieved. You feel that the anaconda's coi 
had been suddenly relaxed. Then you start out to the Lieutenant- 
General; you find him. He is in a very learned and dignified 
conversation about the war in Chili. Well, you get very anxious 
for the war in Chili to get to an end. The General pulls his 
side-whiskers, look wise, and tells his Adjutant to look over it, 
and, if correct, sign it. The Adjutant does not deign to conde- 
scend to notice you. He seems to be full of gumbo or calf-tail 
soup, and does not wish his equanimity disturbed. He takes 
hold of the document, and writes the Lieutenant General's name, 
and finishes his own name while looking in another direction — 
approved and forwarded. Then you take it up to the General ; 
the guard stops you in a very formal way, and asks, " What do 
you want?" You tell him. He calls for the Orderly; the Order- 
ly gives it to the Adjutant, and you are informed that it will be 
sent to your Colonel to-night, and given to you at roll-call in the 
morning. Now, reader the above is a pretty true picture of how 
I got my furlough. 

I GET A FURLOUGH. 

After going through all the formality of red-tapeism, and be- 
ing snubbed with tweedle-dum and tweedle-dee, I got my fur- 
lough. When it started out, it was on the cleanest piece of pa- 
per that could be found in Buck Lanier's suttler's store. After 
it came back, it was pretty well used up, and looked as if it had 
gone through a very dark place, and been beat with a soot-bag. 
But, any how, I know that I did not appreciate my fur- 
lough half as much as I thought I would. I felt like returning 
it to the gentlemen with my compliments, declining their kind 
favors. I felt that it was unwillingly given, and, as like begets 
like, it Avas very unwillingly received. Honestly, I felt as if I 
had made a bad bargain, and was keen to rue the trade. 1 did 



126 DALTON. 

not know what to do with it; but, any how, I tliought I would 
make the best of a bad bargain. I got on the cars at Dalton — 
now, here is a thing that I had long since forgotten about — it 
was the first first-class passenger car that I had been in since I 
had been a soldier. The conductor passed around, and handed 
me a ticket with these words on it : 

" If you wish to travel with ease, 
Keep tliis ticket in sight, if you please; 
And if you wish to take a nap. 
Just stick this in your hat or cap." 

This was the poetry, reader, that was upon the ticket. The 
conductor called around every now and then, especially if you 
were asleep, to look at your ticket, and every now and then a 
Captain and a detail of three soldiers would want to look at your 
furlough. I thought before I got to Selraa, Alabama, that I 
wished the ticket and furlough both were in the bottom of the 
ocean, and myself back in camp. Everywhere I went some one 
wanted to see ray furlough. Before I got my furlough, I thought 
it sounded big. Furlough was a war word, and I did not com- 
prehend its meaning until I got one. The very word " furlough " 
made we sick then. I feel tainty now whenever I think of fur- 
lough. It has a sickening sound in the ring of it — "furlough!" 
" Furloch," it ought to have been called. Every man I met had 
a furlough ; in fact it seemed to have the very double -ex tract of 
romance about it — "fur too, eh?'* Men who I knew had never 
been in the army in their lives, all had furloughs. Where so 
many men ever got furloughs from I never knew; but I know 
now. They were like the old bachelor who married the widow 
with ten children — he married a "ready-made" family. They 
had ready-made furloughs. But I have said enough on the fur- 
lough question; it enthralled me — let it pass; don't want any 
more furloughs. But while on my furlough, I got with Captain 
G. M. V. Kinzer, a fine-dressed and handsome cavalry Captain, 
whom all the ladies (as they do at the present d:iy), fell in love 
with. The Captain and myself were great friends. The Cap- 
tain gave me his old coat to act Captain in, but the old 



DALTON. 127 

thing wouldn't act. I would keep the collar turned down. 
One night we went to call on a couple of beautiful and in- 
teresting ladies near Selma. We chatted the girls until the " wee 
snia' hours" of morning, and when the young ladies retired, re- 
marked that they would send a servant to show us to our room. 
We waited ; no servant came. The Captain and myself snoozed 
it out as best we could. About daylight the next morning the 
Captain and myself tiiought that we would appear as if we had 
risen very early, and began to move about, and opening the door, 
there lay a big black negro on his knees and face. Now, reader, 
what do you suppose that negro was doing? You could not 
guess in a week. The black rascal ! hideous! terrible to contem- 
plate ! vile ! outrageous ! Well, words cannot express it. What 
do you suppose he was doing? He was fast asleep. He had 
come thus far, and could go no further, and fell asleep. There 
is where the Captain and myself found him at daylight the next 
morning. We left for Selma immediately after breakfast, leav- 
ing the family in ignorance of the occurence. The Captain and 
myself had several other adventures, but the Captain always had 
the advantage of me; he had the good clothes, and the good 
looks, and got all the good presents from the pretty young ladies 
-well, you might say, " cut me out " on all occasions. " That's 
what makes me 'spise a furlough." But then furlough sounds 
big you know. 



128 HUNDRED days' BATTLES. 



CHAP. XII.— HUNDRED DAYS' BATTLES. 



EOCKY FACE RIDGE. 

When I got back to Dalton, I found the Yankee army ad- 
vancing ; they were at Rocky Face Ridge. Now, for Old Joe's 
generalship. We have seen him in camp, now we will see him in 
action. We are marched to meet the enemy ; we occupy Turner's 
Gap at Tunnel Hill. Now, come on Mister Yank — we are keen 
for an engagement. It is like a picnic; the soldiers are ruddy 
and fat, and strong; whoop! whoop! hurrah! come on, Mr. 
Yank. We form line of battle on top of Rocky Face Ridge, 
and here we are face to face with the enemy. Why don't you 
unbottle your thunderbolts and dash us to pieces? Ha! here it 
comes; the boom of cannon and the bursting of a shell in our 
midst. Ha ! ha ! give us another blizzard ! Boom ! boom ! 
That's all right, you ain't hurting nothing. 

" Hold on, boys," says a sharpsliooter, armed with a Whit- 
worth gun, " I'll stop that racket. Wait until I see her smoke 
again." Boom ! boom ! the keen crack of the Whitworth rings 
upon the frosty morning air ; the cannoneers are seen to lie down ; 
something is going on. "Yes, yonder is a fellow being carried 
off on a litter." Bang! bang! goes the Whitworth, and the bat- 
tery in seen to limber to the rear. What next! a yell! What 
does this yell mean? A charge right up the hill, and a little 
sharp skirmish for a few moments. We can see the Yankee line. 
They are resting on their arms. The valley below is full of blue 
coats, but a little too far off to do any execution. 

Old Joe walks along the line. He happens to see the blue 
coats in the valle};, in plain view. Company H is ordered to 
fire on them. We take deliberate aim and fire a stolid volley of 
rainnie balls into their midst. We see a terrible comsplutter- 
ment among them, and know that we have killed and wounded 
several of Sherman's incendiaries. They seem to get mad at 



HUNDRED days' BATTLES. 129 

our audacity, and ten pieces of cannon are brought up, and 
pointed right toward us. We see the smoke boil up, and a mo- 
ment afterwards the shell is roaring and bursting right among 
us. Ha, ha, ha; that's funny — we love the noise of battle. 
Captain Joe P. Lee orders us to load and fire at will upon these 
batteries. Our Enfields crack, keen and sharp; and, ha, ha, ha, 
look yonder ! The Yankees are running away from their can- 
non, leaving two pieces to take care of themselves. Yonder 
goes a dash of our cavalry. They are charging right up in the 
midst of tlie Yankee line. Three men are far in advance. Look 
out, boys! What does that mean? Our cavalry are falling 
back, and the three men are cut of!. They will be captured, sure. 
They turn to get back to our lines. We can see the smoke boil 
up, and hear the discharge of musketry from the Yankee lines. 
One man's horse is seen to blunder and fall, one man reels in his 
saddle, and falls a corpse, and the other is seen to surrender. 
But, look yonder! the man's horse that blundered and fell is up 
again; he mounts his horse in fifty yards of the whole Yankee 
line, is seen to lie down on his neck, and is spurring him 
right on toward the solid line of blue coats. Look how he 
rides, and the ranks of the blue coats open. Hurrah, for the 
brave Rebel boy! He has passed and is seen to regain his regi- 
ment. I afterwards learned that that brave Rebel boy was my 
own brother, Dave, who, at that time was not more than sixteen 
years old. The one who was killed was named Grimes, and the 
one captured was named Houser, and the regiment was the First 
Tennessee Cavalry, then commanded by Colonel J. H. Lewis. 
You could have heard the cheers from both sides, it seemed, for 
miles. 

John Branch raises the tune, in which the whole First and 
p ... 

Twenty-seventh Regiments join in: 

"Cheer, boys, cheer, we are marching on to battle! 
Cheer, boys, cheer, for our sweethearts and our wives! 
Cheer, boys, cheer, we'll nobly do our duty. 
And give to the South our hearts, our arms, our lives. 
Old Lincoln, with his hireling hosts. 
Will never whip the South, 

Shouting the battle cry of freedom." 



130 HUNDRED days' BATTLES. 

All this is taking place while the Yankees are fully one thou- 
sand yards off. We can see every movement that is made, and 
we know that Sherman's incendiaries are already hacked. Sher- 
man himself is a coward, and dares not try his strength witla old 
Joe. Sherman never fights; all that he is after is marching to 
the sea, while the world looks on and wonders: "What a Hank 
movement!" Yes, Sherman is afraid of minnie balls, and tries 
the flank movement. We are ordered to march somewhere. 

"falling back." 

Old Joe knows what he is up to. Every night we change our 
position. The morrow's sun finds us face to face with the Yan- 
kee lines. The troops are in excellent spirits. Yonder are our 
" big guns," our cavalry — Forrest and Wheeler — our sharpshoot- 
ers, and here is our wagon and supply train, right in our very 
midst. The private's tread is light — his soul is happy. 

Another flank movement. To-morrow finds us face to face. 
Well, you have come here to fight us; why don't you come on? 
We are ready ; always ready. Everything is working like clock- 
work ; machinery is all in order. Come, give us a tilt, and let 
us try our metal. You say old Joe has got the brains and you 
have got the men : you are going to flank us out of the Southern 
Confederacy. That's your plan, is it? Well, look out; we are 
going to pick off and decimate your men every day. You will be 
a picked chicken before you do that. 

What? The Yankees are at Resacca, and have captured the 
bridge across the Oostanaula river. Well, now, that's business; 
that has the old ring in it. Tell it to us again ; we 're fond of 
hearing such things. 

The Yankees are tearing up the railroad track between the 
tank and Resacca. Let 's hear it again. The Yankees have 
opened the attack ; we are going to have a battle ; we are ordered 
to strip for the fight. (That is, to take off" our knapsacks and 
blankets, and to detail Bev. White to guard them.) Keep closed 
up, men. The skirmish line is firing like popping fire-crackers 
on a Christmas morning. Every now and then the boom of a 



HUNDRED days' BATTLES. 131 

cannon and the screaming of a shell. Ha, ha, ha ! that has the 
right ring. We will make Sherman's incendiaries tell another 
tale in a few moments, when — " Halt ! about face." Well, 
what's the matter now? Simply a flank movement. All right; 
we march back, retake our knapsacks and blankets, and com- 
mence to march toward Resacca. Tom Tuck's rooster crows, and 
John Branch raises the tune, " Just Twenty Years Ago," and af- 
ter we sing that out, he winds up with, " There was an Ancient 
Individual whose Cognomen was Uncle Edward," and 

" The old woman who kept a peanut stand, 
And a big policeman stood by with a big stick in his hand," 

And Arthur Fulghum halloes out, "All right; go ahead! toot, 
toot, toot ! puff, puff, puff ! Tickets, gentlemen, tickets ! " and the 
Maury Grays raise the yell, " All aboard for Culleoka," while 
Walker Coleman commences the song, " I'se gwine to jine the 
rebel band, fightin' for my home." Thus we go, marching back 
to Resacca. 

BATTLE OF RESACCA. 

Well, you want to hear about shooting and banging, now, 
gentle reader, don't you? I am sorry I cannot interest you on 
this subject — see history. 

The Yankees had got breeches hold on us. They were ten 
miles in our rear; had cut off our possibility of a retreat. The 
wire bridge was in their hands, and they were on the railroad in 
our rear ; but we were moving, there was no mistake in that. 
Our column was firm and strong. There was no excitement, but 
we were moving along as if on review. We passed old Joe and 
his staff. He has on a light or mode colored hat, with a 
black feather in it. He is listening to the firing going on at the 
front. One little cheer, and the very ground seems to shake with 
cheers. Old Joe smiles as blandly as a modest maid, raises his 
hat in acknowledgement, makes a polite bow, and rides toward 
the firing. Soon we are thrown into line of battle, in support of 
Polk's corps. We belong to Hardee's corps. Now Polk's corps 



132 HUNDRED days' BATTLES. 

advances to the attack, and Hardee's corps fifty or seventy-five 
yards in the rear. A thug, thug, thug ; the balls are decimating 
our men ; we can't fire; Polk's corps is in front of us ; should it 
give way, then it will be our time. The air is full of deadly mis- 
siles. We can see the two lines meet, and hear the deadly clash 
of battle; can see the blaze of smoke and fire. The earth trem- 
bles. Our litter corps rush in to carry off our men as they are 
shot down, killed, and wounded. Lie down ! thug, thug ! Gen- 
eral Hardee passes along the line. '^Steady, boys!" (The old 
General had on a white cravat ; he had been married to a young 
wife not more than three weeks). " Go back, General, go back, 
go back, go back," is cried all along the line. He passes through 
the missiles of death unscathed; stood all through that storm of 
bullets indifferent to their proximity (we were lying down, you 
know). The enemy is checked ; yonder they fly, whipped and 
driven from the field. " Attention ! By the right flank file left, 
march ! Double quick ! " and we were double quicking, we knew 
not whither, but that always meant fight. We pass over the hill, 
and through the valley, and there is old Joe pointing toward the 
tank with his sword. (He looked like the pictures you see hung 
upon the walls). We cross the railroad. Halloo! here comes a 
cavalry charge from the Yankee line. Now for it ; we will see 
how Yankee cavalry fight. We are not supported ; what is the 
matter? Are we going to be captured? They thunder down 
upon us. Their flat-footed dragoons shake and jar the earth. 
They are all around us — we are surrounded. " Form square ! 
Platoons, right and left wheel ! Kneel and fire ! " There we 
were in a hollow square. The Yankees had never seen anything 
like that before. It was something new. They charged right 
upon us. Colonel Field, sitting on his gray mare, right in the 
center of the hollow square, gives the command, " Front rank, 
kneel and present bayonet against cavalry." The front rank 
knelt down, placing the butts of their guns against their knees. 
" Rear rank, fire at will ; commence firing." Now, all this hap- 
pened in less time than it has taken me to write it. They charged 
right upon us, no doubt expecting to ride right over us, and tram- 
ple us to death with the hoofs of their horses. They tried to 



HUNDRED days' BATTLES. 133 

spur and whip their horses over us, but the horses had more sense 
than that. We were pouring a deadly fire right into their faces, 
and soon men and liorses were writhing in the death agonies ; 
officers were yelling at the top of their voices, "Surrender! sur- 
render ! " but we were having too good a thing of it. We were 
killing them by scores, and they could not fire at us ; if they did 
they either overshot or missed their aim. Their ranks soon be- 
gan to break and get confused, and finally they were routed, and 
broke and ran in all directions, as fast as their horses could carry 
them. 

When we re-formed our regiment and marched back, we found 
that General Johnston's army had all passed over the bridge at 
Resacca. Now, reader, this was one of our tight places. The 
First Tennessee Regiment was always ordered to hold tight 
places, which we always did. We were about the last troops that 
passed over. 

Now, gentle reader, that is all I know of the battle of Resacca. 
We had repulsed every charge , had crossed the bridge with 
every wagon, and cannon, and everything, and had nothing lost 
or captured. It beat anything that has ever been recorded in 
history. I wondered why old Joe did not attack in their rear. 
The explanation was that Hood's line was being enfiladed, his 
men decimated, and he could not hold his position. 

We are still fighting; battles innumerable. The Yankees had 
thrown pontoons across the river below Resacca, in hopes to in- 
tercept us on the other side. We were marching on the road ; 
they seemed to be marching parallel with us. It was fijrhting, 
fighting, every day. When we awoke in the morning, the firing 
of guns was our reveille, and when the sun went down it was our 
" retreat and our lights out." Fighting, fighting, fighting, all 
day and all night long. Battles were fought every day, and in 
one respect we always had the advantage; they were the attack- 
ing party, and we always had good breastworks thrown up during 
the night. 

Johnston's army was still intact. The soldiers drew their regu- 
lar rations of biscuit and bacon, sugar and coffee, whisky and 
tobacco. When we went to sleep we felt that old Joe, the faith- 



134 HUNDRED days' BATTLES. 

ful old watch dog, had his eye on the enemy. No one was dis- 
posed to straggle and go back to Company Q. (Company Q was 
the napje for play-outs). They even lelt safer in the regular line 
than in the rear with Company Q. 

Well, as stated previously, it was battle, battle, battle, every 
day, for one hundred days. Tiie boom of cannon, and the rattle 
of musketry was our reveilleand retreat, and Sherman knew that 
it was no child's play. 

To-day, April 14, 1882, I say, and honestly say, that I sin- 
cerely believe the combined forces of the whole Yankee nation 
could never have broken General Joseph E. Johnston's line of 
battle, beginning at Rockyface Ridge, and ending on the banks 
of the Chattahoochee. 

ADAIRSVILLE — OCTAGON HOUSE — THE FIRST TENNESSEE AL- 
WAYS OCCUPIES TIGHT PLACES. 

We had stacked our arms and gone into camp, and had started 
to build fires to cook supper. I saw our cavalry falling back I 
thought rather hurriedly. I ran to the road and asked them what 
was the matter? Tbey answered, " Matter enough ; yonder are 
the Yankees, are you infantry fellows going to make a stand 
here?" I told Colonel Field what had been told to me, and he 
hooted at the idea; but balls that had shucks tied to their tails 
were passing over, and our regiment was in the rear of the 
whole army. I could hardly draw any one's attention to the fact 
that the cavalry had passed us, and that we were on the outpost 
of the whole army, when an order came for our regiment to go 
forward as rapidly as possible and occupy an octagon house in 
our immediate front. The Yankees were about a hundred yards 
from the house on one side and we about a hundred yards on the 
other. The race commenced as to which side would get to the 
house first. We reached it, and had barely gotten in, when they 
were bursting down the paling of the yard on the opposite side. 
The house was a fine brick, octagon in shape, and as perfect a 
fort as could be desired. We ran to the windows, up-stairs, down- 
stairs and in the cellar. The Yankees cheered and charged, and 



HUNDRED days' BATTLES. 135 

our boys got happy. Colonel Field told us he had orders to hold 
it until every man was killed, and never to surrender the house. 
It was a forlorn hope. 

AVe felt we were "gone fawn skins/' sure enough. At every 
discharge of our guns, we would hear a Yankee squall. The 
boys raised a tune — 

" I'se gwine to jine the Eebel band, 
A fighting for my home " — 

as they loaded and shot their guns. Then the tune of — 

" Cheer, boys, cheer, we are marching on to battle ! 
Cheer, boys, cheer, for our sweethearts and our Avives ! 
Cheer, boys, cheer, we'll nobly do our duty, 
And give to the South our hearts, our arms, our lives. 

Our cartridges were almost gone, and Lieutenant Joe Carney, 
Joe Sewell, and Billy Carr volunteered to go and bring a box of 
one thousand cartridges. They got out of the back window, and 
through that hail of iron and lead, made their way back with 
the box of cartridges. Our ammunition being renewed, the 
fight raged on. Captain Joe P. Lee touched me on the shoulder, 
and said, " Sam, please let rae have your gun for one shot." He 
raised it to his shoulder and pulled down on a fine-dressed cav- 
alry officer, and I saw that Yankee tumble. He handed it back 
to me to reload. About twelve o'clock, midnight, the Hundred 
and Fifty-fourth Tennessee, commanded by Colonel McGevney, 
came to our relief. 

The firing had ceased, and we abandoned the octagon house. 
Our dead and wounded — there were thirty of them — were in 
strange contrast with the furniture of the house. Fine chairs, 
sofas, settees, pianos, and Brussels carpeting, being made the 
death-bed of brave and noble boys, all saturated with blood. 
Fine lace and damask curtains, all blackened by the smoke of 
battle. Fine bureaus and looking-glasses and furniture being 
riddled by the rude missiles of war. Beautiful pictures in gilt 
frames, and a library of valuable books, all shot and torn by 
musket and cannon balls. Such is war. 



136 HUNDREJ? days' BATTLES. 

KENNESAW LINE. 

The battles of the Kennesaw line were fought for weeks. 
Cannonading and musketry firing was one continual thing. It 
seemed that shooting was the order of the day, and pickets on 
both sides kept up a continual firing, that sounded like ten thou- 
sand wood-choppers. Sometimes the wood-choppers would get 
lazy or tired and there was a lull. But you could always tell 
when the old guard had been relieved, by the accelerated chops 
of the wood-choppers. 

AM DETAILED TO GO INTO THE ENEMY's LINES. 

One day our Orderly Sergeant informed me that it was my 
regular time to go on duty, and to report to Captain Beasley, of 
the Twenty-seventh. I reported to the proper place, and we 
were taken to the headquarters of General Leonidas Polk. We 
had to go over into the enemy's lines, and make such observa- 
tions as we could, and report back by daylight in the morning. 
Our instructions were to leave everything in camp except our 
guns and cartridge-boxes. These were to be carried, but, under 
no circumstances, to be used, except in case of death itself. We 
were instructed to fall in in the rear of our relief guard, which 
would go out about sunset ; not to attract their attention, but to 
drop out one or two at a time ; to pass the Yankee picket as best 
we could, even if we had to crawl on our bellies to do so; to go 
over into the Yankee lines, and to find out all we could, without 
attracting attention, if possible. These were our instructions. 
You may be sure my heart beat like a muffled drum when I 
heard our orders. 

I felt like making my will. But, like the boy who was pass- 
ing the graveyard, I tried to whistle to keep my spirits up. We 
followed the relief guard, and one by one stepped off from the 
rear. I was with two others, Arnold Zellner and T. C. Doruin. 
We found ourselves between the picket lines of the two armies. 
Fortune seemed to favor us. It was just getting dusky twilight, 
and we saw the relief guard of the Yankees just putting on their 



HUNDRED days' BATTLES. 137 

picket. Thej seemed to be very mild, inoffensive fellows. 
They kept a looking over toward the Rebel lines, and would 
dodge if a twig cracked under their feet. I walked on as if 
I was just relieved, and had passed their lines, when I turned 
back, and says I, " Captain, what guard is this?" He an- 
swered, " Nien bocht, you bet," is what I understood him to 
say. ""What regiment are you from?" "Ben bicht mir ein 
riefel fab bien." " What regiment is your detail from ?" 
" let du mein got Donnermetter stefel switzer." I had to 
give it up — I had run across the detail of a Dutch regiment. 
I passed on, and came to the regular line of breastworks, and 
there was an old Irishman sitting on a stump grinding coffee. 
" General McCook's brigade, be jabbers," he answered to my 
inquiry as to what regiment it was. Right in front of me 
the line was full of Irish soldiers, and they were cooking sup- 
per. I finally got over their breastworks, and was fearful I 
would run into some camp or headquarter guard, and the 
countersign would be demanded of me. I did not know 
what to do in that case — but I thought of the way that 1 had 
gotten it hundreds of times before in our army, when I 
wanted to slip the guard, and that was to get a gun, go to 
some cross street or conspicuous place, halt the officer, and 
get the countersign. And while standing near General Sher- 
man's headquarters, I saw a courier come out of his tent, 
get on his horse, and ride toward where I stood. As he ap- 
proached, says I, "Halt! who goes there?" "A friend with 
the countersign." He advanced, and whisped in my ear the 
word " United." He rode on. I had gotten their counter- 
sign, and felt I was no longer a prisoner. I went all over 
their camp, and saw no demonstration of any kind. Night 
had thrown her mantle over the encampment. I could 
plainly see the sentinels on their weary vigils along the lines, 
but there was none in their rear. I met and talked with a 
a great many soldiers, but could get no information from 
them. 

About 2 o'clock at night, I saw a body of men approach- 
ing where I was. Something told me that I had better get 
10 



138 HUNDRED days' BATTLES. 

put of their wa}', but I did not. The person in command 
said, *' Say, there! you sir; say, you, sir!" Says I, "Are 
you speaking to me?" "Yes," very curtly and abruptly. 
" "What regiment do you belong to ?" Say I. " One hundred 
and twenty-seventh Illinois." " Well, sir, fall in here; I am 
ordered to take up all stragglers. Fall in, fall in promptly !" 
Says I, " I am instructed by General McCook to remain here 
and direct a courier to General Williams' headquarters." 
He says, " It's a strange place for a courier to come to." His 
command marclied on. About an hour afterwards — about 
3 o'clock — 1 heard the assembly sound. I knew then that it 
was about time for me to be getting out of the way. Soon 
their companies were forming, and they were calling the roll 
everywhere. Everything had begun to stir. Artillery men 
were hitching up their horses. Men were dashing about in 
every direction. I saw their army form and move off. I got 
back into our lines, and reported to General Polk. 

He was killed that very day on the Kennesaw line. Gen- 
eral Stephens was killed the very next day. 

Every now and then a dead picket was brought in. Times 
had begun to look bilious, indeed. Their cannon seemed to 
be getting the best of ours in every fight. The cannons of 
both armies were belching and bellowing at each other, and 
the pickets were going it like wood-choppers, in earnest. 
We were entrenched behind strong fortifications. Our ra- 
tions were cooked and brought to us regularly, and the spirits 
of the army were in good condition. 

We continued to change position, and build new breast- 
works every night. One-third of the army had to keep 
awake in the trenches, while the other two-thirds slept. But 
everything was so systematized, that we did not feel the 
fatigue. 

PINE MOUNTAIN — DEATH OF GENERAL LEONIDAS POLK. 

General Leonidas Polk, our old leader, whom we had fol- 
lowed all through that long war, had gone forward with some 



HUNDRED days' BATTLES. 139 

of his staff to the top of Pine Mountain, to reconnoiter, as 
far as was practicable, the position of the enemy in our front. 
While looking at them with his field glass, a solid shot from 
the Federal guns struck him on his left breast, passing 
through his body and through his heart. I saw him while 
the infirmary corps were bringing him off the field. He 
was as white as a piece of marble, and a most remarkable 
thing about him was, that not a drop of blood was ever seen 
to come out of the place through which the cannon ball had 
passed. My pen and ability is inadequate to the task of doing 
his memory justice. Every private soldier loved him. Sec- 
ond to Stonewall Jackson, his loss was the greatest the South 
ever sustained. When I saw him there dead, I felt that I had 
lost a friend whom I had ever loved and respected, and that 
the South had lost one of her best and greatest Generals. 

His soldiers always loved and honored him. They called 
him "Bishop Polk." "Bishop Polk" was ever a favorite 
with the army, and when any position was to be held, and it 
was known that "Bishop Polk" was there, we knew and 
felt that " all was well." 

GOLGOTHA CHURCH — GENERAL LUCIUS E. POLK WOUNDED. 

On this Kennesaw line, near Golgotha Church, one even- 
ing about 4 o'clock, our Confederate line of battle and the 
Yankee line came in close proximity. If I mistake not, it 
was a dark, drizzly, rainy evening. The cannon balls were 
ripping and tearing through the bushes. The two lines were 
in plain view of each other. General Pat Cleburne was at 
this time commanding Hardee's corps, and General Lucius 
E. Pofe was in command of Cleburne's division. General 
John C. Brown's division was supporting Cleburne's divis- 
ion, or, rather, " in echelon." Every few moments, a raking 
fire from the Yankee lines would be poured into our lines, 
tearing limbs off the trees, and throwing roc^s and dirt in 
every direction; but I never saw a soldier quail, or even, 
dodge. We had confidence in old Joe, and were ready to 



140 IIUNDRKD days' BATTLES. 

march right into the midst of battle at a moment s notice. 
While in this position, n bomb, loaded with 8hra])nel and 
grape-shot, came ripping and tearing through our ranks, 
wounding General Lucius E. Polk, and killing some of his 
staff. And, right here, I deem it not inappropriate to make 
a few remarks as to the character and appearance of so brave 
and gallant an officer. At this time he was about twenty- 
five years old, with long black hair, that curled, a gentle and 
attractive black eye that seemed to sparkle with love rather 
than chivalry, and were it not for a young moustache and 
goatee that he usually worej he would have passed for a beau- 
tiful girl. In his manner he was as simple and guileless as a 
child, and generous almost to a fault. Enlisting in the First 
Arkansas Regiment as a private soldier, and serving for 
twelve months as Orderlv Sergeant; at the reora^anizatiou 
he was elected Colonel of the regiment, and afterwards, on 
account of merit and ability, was commissioned Brigadier- 
General ; distinguishing himself for conspicuous jbravery 
and gallantry on every battle-field, and being " scalped " by 
a minnie ball at Richmond, Kentucky — which scar marks 
its furrow on top of his head to-day. In every battle he was 
engaged in, he led his men to victory, or held the enemy at 
bay, while the surge of battle seemed against us; he always 
^eemed the successful General, who would snatch victory out 
of the very jaws of defeat. In every battle, Polk's brigade, 
of Cleburne's division, distinguished itself, almost making 
the name of Cleburne as the Stonewall of the West. Polk 
was to Cleburne what Murat or the old guard was to Napo- 
leon. And, at the battle of Chickamauga, when it seemed* 
that the Southern army had nearly lost the battle. General 
Lucius E. Polk's brigade made the most gallant charge of 
the war, turning the tide of affairs, and routing the Yankee 
army. General Polk himself led the charge in person, and 
was the first man on top of the Yankee breastworks {vide 
General D. H. Hill's report of the battle of Chickamauga), 
and in every attack he had the advance guard, and in every 
retreat, the rear guard of the army. Why ? Because Gen- 



HUNDRED days' BATTLES. 141 

erai Lucius E. Polk and his brave soldiers never faltered, and 
with him as leader, the General commanding the army, knew 
that " all was well." 

Well, this evening of which I now write, the litter corps 
ran up and placed him on a litter, and were bringing him 
back through Company H, ot our regiment, when one of the 
men was wounded, and I am not sure but another one was 
killed, and they let him fall to the ground. At that time, 
the Yankees seemed to know that they had killed or wounded 
a General, and tore loose their batteries upon this point. The 
dirt and rocks were flying in every direction, when Captain 
Joe P. Lee, Jim Brandon and myself, ran forward, grabbed 
up the litter, brought General Polk off the crest of the hill, 
and assisted in carrying him to the headquarters of General 
Cleburne. When we got to General Cleburne, he came for- 
ward and asked General Polk if he was badly wounded, and 
General Polk remarked, laughingly: " Well, I think I will 
be able to get a furlough now." This is a fact. General 
Polk's leg had been shot almost entirely off". I remember 
the foot part being twisted clear around, and lying by his 
side, while the blood was running through the litter in a per- 
fect stream. I remember, also, that General Cleburne dashed 
a tear from his eye with his hand, and saying, " Poor fellow," 
at once galloped to the front, and ordered an immediate ad- 
vance of our lines. Cleburne's division was soon engaged. 
Night coming on, prevented a general engagement, but we 
drove the Yankee line two miles. 

" dead angle." 

The First and Twenty-seventh Tennessee Regiments will 
ever remember the battle of " Dead Angle," which was fought 
June 27th, on the Kennesaw line, near Marietta, Georgia. It 
was one of the hottest and longest days of the year, and one 
of the most desperate and determinedly resisted battles fought 
during the whole war. Our regiment was stationed on an 
angle, a little spur of the mountain, or rather promontory of 



142 HUNDRED days' BATTLES. 

a range of hills, extending far out beyond the main line of 
battle, and was subject to the enfilading fire of forty pieces of 
"artillery of the Federal batteries. It seemed fun for the guns 
of the whole Yankee army to play upon this point. We 
would work hard every night to strengthen our breastworks, 
and the very next day they would be torn down smooth with 
the ground b}' solid shots and shells from the guns of the 
enemy. Even the little trees and bushes which had been left 
for shade, were cut down as so much stubble. For more than 
a week this constant firing had been kept up against this sa- 
lient point. In the meantime, the skirmishing in the valley 
below resembled the sounds made by ten thousand wood- 
choppers. 

Well, on the fatal morning of June 27th, the sun rose clear 
and cloudless, the heavens seemed made of brass, and the 
earth of iron, and as the sun began to mount towards the 
zenith, everything became quiet, and no sound was heard save 
a peckerwood on a neighboring tree, tapping on its old trunk, 
trying to find a worm for his dinner. We all knew it was but 
the dead calm that precedes the storm. On the distant hills 
we could plainly see officers dashing about hither and thither, 
and the Stars and Stripes moving to and fro, and we knew the 
Federals were making preparations for the might}' contest. 
We could hear but the rumbling sound of heavy guns, and 
the distant tread of a marching army, as a faint roar of the 
coming storm, which was soon to break the ominous silence 
with the sound of conflict, such as was scarcely ever before 
heard on this earth. It seemed that the arch-angel of Death 
stood and looked on with outstretched wings, while all the 
earth was silent, when all at once a hundred guns from the 
Federal line opened upon us, and for more than an hour they 
poured theirsolid and chain shot,grapeand shrapnel rightupon 
this salient point, defended by our regiment alone, when, all 
of a sudden, our pickets jumped into our works and reported 
the Yankees advancing, and almost at the same time a solid 
line of blue coats came up the hill. I discharged m}' gun, and 
happening to look up, there was the beautiful flag of the Stars 



HUNDRED days' BATTLES. 143 

and Stripes flaunting right in my face, and I heard John 
Branch, of the Rock Citj' Guards, commanded by Captain W. 
D. Kelly, who were next Company H, say, " Look at that 
Yankee flag ; shoot that fellow ; snatch that flag out of his 
hand!" My pen is unable to describe the scene of carnage 
and death that ensued in the next two hours. Column after 
column of Federal soldiers were crowded upon that line, and 
by referring to the history of the war you will find they were 
massed in column forty columns deep ; in fact, the whole 
force of the Yankee army was hurled against this point, but 
no sooner would a regiment mount our works than they were 
shot down or surrendered, and soon we had every " gopher 
hole" full of Yankee prisoners. Yet still the Yankees came. 
It seemed impossible to check the onslaught, but every man 
was true to his trust, and seemed to think that at that mo- 
ment the whole responsibility of the Confederate government 
was rested upon his shoulders. Talk about other battles, vic- 
tories, shouts, cheers, and triumphs, but in comparison with 
this day's fight, all others dwarf into insignificance. The sun 
beaming down on our uncovered heads, the thermometer be- 
ing one hundred and ten degrees in the shade, and a solid line 
of blazing fire right from the muzzles of the Yankee guns be- 
ing poured right into our very faces, singeing our hair and 
clothes, the hot blood of our dead and wounded spurting on 
us, the blinding smoke and stifling atmosphere filling our 
eyes and mouths, and the awful concussion causing the blood 
to gush out of our noses and ears, and above all, the roar of 
battle, made it a perfect pandemonium. Afterward I heard 
a soldier express himself by saying that he thought " Hell had 
broke loose in Georgia, sure enough." 
// I have heard men say that if they ever killed a Yankee 
during the war they were not aware of it. I ani satisfied that 
on this memorable day, every man in our regiment killed 
from one score to four score, yea, five score men. I mean 
from twenty to one hundred each. All that was necessary 
was to load and shoot. In fact, I will ever think that the 
reason they did not capture our works was the impossibility 



144 HUNDRED days' BATTLES. 

of their living men passing over the bodies of their dead. 
The ground was piled up with one solid mass of dead and 
wounded Yankees. I learned afterwards from the burying 
sqmid that in some places they were piled up like cord wood, 
twelve deep. // 

After they were time and time again beaten back, they at 
last were enabled to fortify a line under the crest of the hill, 
only thirty yards from us, and they immediately commenced 
to excavate the earth with the purpose of blowing up our 
line. 

We remained here three days after the battle. In the 
meantime the woods had taken fire, and during the nights 
and days of all that time continued to burn, and at all times, 
ever}' hour of day and night, you could hear the shrieks and 
screams of the poor fellows who were left on the field, and a 
stench, so sickening as to nauseate the whole of both armies, 
arose from the decaying bodies of the deiad. left lying on the 
field. 

On the third morning the Yankees raised a white flag, ask- 
ing an armistice to bury their dead, not for any respect either 
army had for the dead, but to get rid of the sickening stench. 
I get sick now when I happen to think about it. Long and 
deep trenches were dug, and hooks made from bayonets 
crooked for the purpose, and all the dead were dragged and 
thrown pell mell into these trenches. Nothing was allowed 
to be taken off the dead, and finely dressed ofiicers, with gold 
watch chains dangling over their vests, were thrown into the 
ditches. During the whole day both armies were hard at 
work, burying the Federal dead. 

Every member of the First and Twenty-seventh Tennessee 
Regiments deserves a wreath of imperishable fame, and a 
warm place in the hearts of their countrymen, for their gal- 
lant and heroic valor at the battle of Dead Angle. No man 
distinguished himself above another. All did their duty, and 
the glory of one is but the glory and just tribute of the 
others. 

After we had abandoned the line, and on coming to a little 



HUNDRED days' BATTLES. 145 

stream of water, I undressed for the purpose of bathii\^, and 
after undressing found my arm all battered and bruised and 
bloodshot from my wrist to my shoulder, and as sore as a 
blister. I had shot one hundred and twenty times that day. 
My gun became so hot that frequently the powder would flash 
before I could ram home the ball, and I had frequently to ex- 
change my gun for that of a dead comrade. 

Colonel H. R. Field was loading and shooting the same as 
any private in the ranks when he fell oft' the skid from which 
he w^as shooting right over m}' shoulder, shot through the 
head. I laid him down in the trench, and he said, " Well, 
they have got me at last, but I have killed fifteen of them ; 
time about is fair play, I reckon." But Colonel Field was 
not killed — only wounded, and one side paralyzed. Captain 
Joe P. Lee, Captain Mack Campbell, Lieutenant T. H. Maney, 
and other ofiicers of the regiment, threw rocks and beat 
them in their faces with sticks. The Yankees did the same. 
The rocks came in upon us like a perfect hail storm, and the 
Yankees seemed very obstinate, and in no hurry to get away 
from our front, and we had to keep up the firing and shoot- 
ing them down in self-defense. They seemed to walk up and 
take death as coolly as if they were automatic or wooden 
men, and our boys did not shoot for the fun of the thing. It 
was, verily, a life and death grapple, and the least flicker on 
our part, would have been sure death to all. We could not 
be reinforced on account of our position, and we had to stand 
up to the rack, fodder or no fodder. When the Yankees fell 
back, and the firing ceased, I never saw so many broken 
down and exhausted men in my life. I was as sick as ahorse, 
and as wet with blood and sweat as I could be, and many of 
oar men were vomiting with excessive fatigue, over exhaus- 
tion, and sunstroke; our tongues were parched and cracked 
for water, and our faces blackened with powder and smoke, 
and our dead and wounded were piled indiscriminately in 
the trenches. There was not a single man in the company 
who was not wounded, or had holes shot through his hat and 
clothing. Captain Beasley w^as killed, and nearly all his 



146 HUNDRED days' BATTLES. 

company killed and wounded. The Rock City Guards were 
almost piled in heaps, and so was our company. Captain Joe 
P. Lee was badly wounded. Poor Walter Hood and Jim 
Brandon were lying there among us, while their spirits were 
in heaven ; also, William A. Hughes, my old mess-mate and 
friend, who had clerked with me for S. F. & J. M. Mayes, 
and who had slept with me for lo ! these many years, and a 
boy who loved me more than any other person on earth has 
ever done. I had just discharged the contents of ray gun 
into the bosoms of two men, one right behind the other, 
killing them both, and was re-loading, when a Yankee 
rushed upon me, having me at a disadvantage, and said, 
" You have killed my two brothers, and now I've got you." 
Everything I had ever done rushed through my mind. I 
heard the roar, and felt the flash of fire, and saw my more 
than friend, William A. Hughes, grab the muzzle of the gun, 
receiving the whole contents in his hand and arm, and mor- 
tally wounding him. Reader, he died for me. In saving my 
life, he lost his own. When the infirmary corps carried him 
off', all mutilated and bleeding, he told them to give me 
"Florence Fleming," (that was the name of his gun, which 
he had put on it in silver letters), and to give me his blanket 
and clothing. He gave his life for me, and everything that 
he had. It was the last time that I ever saw him, but I know 
that away up yonder, beyond the clouds, blackness, tempest 
and night, and away above the blue vault of heaven, where 
the stars keep their ceaseless vigils, away yonder in the 
golden city of tlie IS^ew Jerusalem, where God and Jesus 
Christ, our Saviour, ever reign, we will sometime meet at the 
marriage supper of the Son of God, who gave His life for the 
redemption of the whole world. 

For several nights they made attacks upon our lines, but in 
every attempt, they were driven back with great slaughter. 
They would ignite the tape of bomb shells, and throw them 
over in our lines, but, if the shell did not immediately ex- 
plode, they were thrown back. They had a little shell called 
hand grenade, but they would either stop short of us, or go 



HUNDRED days' BATTLES. 147 

over our heads, and were harmless. Geperal Joseph E. 
Johnston sent us a couple of chevaux-de-frise. When they 
came, a detail of three men had to roll them over the works. 
Those three men were heroes. Their names were Edmund 
Brandon, T. C. Dornin, and Arnold Zellner. Although it 
was a solemn occasion, every one of us was convulsed with 
laughter at the ridiculous appearance and actions of the de- 
tail. Every one of them made their wills and said their 
prayers truthfully and honestly, before they undertook the 
task. I laugh now every time I think of the ridiculous ap- 
pearance of the detail, but to them it was no laughing mat- 
ter. I will say that they were men who feared not, nor fal- 
tered in their duty. They were men, and to-day deserve the 
thanks of the people of the South. That night about mid- 
night, an alarm was given that the Yankees were advancing. 
They would only have to run about twenty yards before they 
would be in our works. "We were ordered X^ "shoot." 
Every man was hallooing at the top of his voice, "Shoot, 
shoot, tee, shoot, shootee." ,0n the alarm, both the Confed- 
erate and Federal lines opened with both small arras and ar- 
tillery, and it seemed that the very heavens and earth were in 
a grand conflagration, as they will be at the final judgment, 
after the resurrection. I have since learned that this was a 
false alarm, and that no attack had been meditated. 

Previous to the day of attack, the soldiers had cut down 
all the trees in our immediate front, throwing the tops down 
hill and sharpening the limbs of the same, thus making, as 
we thought, an impenetrable ahattis of vines and limbs locked 
together ; but nothing stopped or could stop the advance of 
the Yankee line, but the hot shot and cold steel that we 
poured into their faces from under our head-logs. 

One of the most shameful and cowardly acts of Yankee 
treachery was committed there that I ever remember to have 
seen. A wounded Yankee was lying right outside of our 
works, and begging most piteously for water, when a mem- 
ber of the railroad company, (his name was Hog Johnson, 
and the very man who stood videt with Theodore Sloan and 



148 HUNDRED days' BATTLES. 

I at the battle of Missionary llidge, and who killed the three 
Yankees, one night, from Fort Horsley), got a canteen of 
water, and gave the dying Yankee a drink, and as he started 
back, he was killed dead in his tracks by a treacherous Yan- 
kee hid behind a tree. It matters not, for somewhere in 
God's Hol}^ Word, which cannot lie, He says that " He that 
giveth a cup of cold water in ray name, shall not lose his re- 
ward." And I have no doubt, reader, in my own mind, that 
the poor fellow^ is reaping his reward in Emanuel's laud with 
the good and just. In every instance where we tried to 
assist their wounded, our men were killed or wounded. A 
poor wounded and dying boy, not more than sixteen years 
of age, asked permission to crawl over our works, and when 
he had crawled to the top, and just as Blair Webster and I 
reached up to help the poor fellow, he, the Yankee, was 
killed by his own men. In fact, I have ever thought that is 
why the sjaughter was so great in our front, that nearly, if 
not as many, Yankees were killed by their own men ^s by 
us. The brave ones, who tried to storm and carry our works, 
were simply between two tires. It is a singular fanaticism, 
and curious fact, that enters the mind of a soldier, that it is 
a grand and glorious death to die on a victorious battle-field. 
One morning the Sixth and Ninth Regiments came to our as- 
sistance — not to relieve us — but only to assist us, and every 
member of our regiment — First and Twenty-seventh — got as 
mad as a "wet hen." They felt almost insulted, and I be- 
lieve we would soon have been in a free tight, had they not 
been ordered back. As soon as they came up every one of 
us began to say, " Go back ! go back! we can hold this place, 
and by the Eternal God we are not going to leave it." Gen- 
eral Johnston came there to look at the position, and told us 
that a transverse line was about one hundred yards in our 
rear, and should they come on us too heavy to fall back to that 
line, when almost every one of us said, " You go back and 
look at other lines, this place is safe, and can never be taken." 
And then when they had dug a tunnel under us to blow us 
up, we laughed, yea, even rejoiced, at the fact of soon being 



HUNDRED days' BATTLES. 149 

blowu sky high. Yet, not a single man was wilUng to leave 
his post. When old Joe sent us the two chevaux-de-frise, and 
kept on sending us water, and rations, and whisky, and to- 
bacco, and word to hold our line, we would invariably send 
word back to rest easy, and that all is well at Dead Angle. 
I have ever thought that is one reason why General Johnston 
fell back from this Kennesaw line, and I will say to-day, in 
1882, that while we appreciated his sympathies and kindness 
toward us, yet we did think hard of old Joe for having so little 
confidence in us at that time. A perfect hail of minnie balls 
was being continually poured into our head-logs the whole 
time we remained here. The Yankees would hold up small 
looking-glasses, so that our strength and breast-works could 
be seen in the reflection in the glass; and they also had small 
mirrors on the butts of their guns, so arranged that they 
could sight up the barrels of their guns by looking through 
these glasses, while they themselves would not be exposed to 
our fire, and they kept up this continual firing day and night, 
whether they could see us or not. Sometimes a glancing 
shot from our head-logs would wound some one. 

But I cannot describe it as I would wish. I would be 
pleased to mention the name of every soldier, not only of 
Company H alone, but every man in the First and Twenty- 
seventh Tennessee Consolidated Regiments on this occasion, 
but I cannot now remember their uames,*and will not men- 
tion any one in particular, fearing to do injustice to some 
whom I might inadvertently omit. Every man and every 
company did their duty. Company G, commanded by Cap- 
tain Mack Campbell, stood side by side with us on this occa- 
sion, as they ever had during the whole war. But soldiers 
of the First and Twenty-seventh Tennessee Regiments, it is 
with a feeling of pride and satisfaction to me, to-day, that I 
was associated with so many noble and brave men, and who 
were subsequently complimented by Jeff Davis, then Presi- 
dent of the Confederate States of America, in person, who 
said, " That every member of our regiment was fit to be a 
Captain " — his very words. I mention Captain W. C. Flour- 



150 HUNDRED days' BATTLES. 

noy, of Compan}^ K, the Martin Guards; Captain Ledbetter, 
of the Rutherford Rifles; Captains Kelly and Steele, of the 
Rock City Guards, and Captain Adkisson,of tiie Williamson 
Grays, and Captain Fulcher, and other names of brave and 
heroic men, some of whom live to-day, but many have crossed 
the dark river and are "resting under the shade of the trees" 
on the other shore, waiting and watching for us, who are left 
to do justice to their memory and onr cause, and when we 
old Rebels have accomplished God's purpose on earth, we, 
too, will be called to give an account of our battles, struggles, 
and triumphs. 

Reader mine, I fear that I have wearied you with too long 
a description of the battle of " Dead Angle," if so, please 
pardon me, as this is but a sample of the others which will 
now follow each other in rapid succession. And, further- 
more, in stating the above facts, the half has not been told, 
but it will give you a faint idea of the hard battles and pri- 
vations and hardships of the soldiers in that stormy epoch — 
who died, grandly, gloriously, nobly ; dyeing the soil of old 
mother earth, and enriching the same with their crimson 
life's blood, wdiile doing what? Only trying to protect their 
homes and families, their property, their Constitution and 
their laws, that had been guaranteed to them as a heritage 
forever by their forefathers. They died for the faith that each 
State was a separate sovereign government, as laid down by 
the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution of our 
fathers. 

BATTLE OF NEW HOPE CHURCH. 

We were on a forced march along a dusty road. I never 
in my whole life saw more dust. The dust fairly popped 
under our feet, like tramping in a snow-drift, and our eyes, 
and noses, and mouths, were tilled with the dust that arose 
from our footsteps, and to make matters worse, the boys all 
tried to kick up a " bigger dust." Cavalry and artillery 
could not be seen at ten paces, being perfectly enveloped in 
dust. It was a perfect fog of dust. We were marching 



HUNDRED days' BATTLES. 151 

along, it then being nearly dark, when we heard the hoarse 
b©oni of a cannon in our rear. It sounded as if it had a bad 
attack of croup. It went, " Croup, croup, croup." The or- 
der was given to " about face, double quick, march." We 
double quicked back to the old church on the road side, when 
the First Tennessee Cavalry, commanded by Colonel Lewis, 
and the ISTinth Battalion, commanded by Major James H. 
Akin, passed us, and charged the advance of the Federal 
forces. We were supporting the cavalry. We heard them 
open. Deadly missiles were flying in every direction. The 
peculiar thud of spent balls and balls with shucks tied to 
their tails were passing over our heads. We were expecting 
that the cavalry would soon break, and that we would be 
ordered into action. But the news came from the front, that 
the cavalry were not only holding their position, but were 
driving the enemy. The earth jarred and trembled ; the fire 
fiend seemed unchained ; wounded men were coming from 
the front. I asked the litter corps, " Who have you there?" 
And one answered, " Captain Asa G. Freeman." I asked 
if he was dangerously wounded, and he simpjy said, " Shot 
through both thighs," and passed on. About this time we 
heard the whoops and cheers of the cavalry, and knew that 
the Yankees were whipped and falling back. We marched 
forward and occupied the place held by the cavalry. The 
trees looked as if they had been cut down for new ground, 
being mutilated and shivered by musket and cannon balls. 
Horses were writhing in their death agony, and the sickening 
odor of battle filled the air. Well, well, those who go to battle 
may expect to die. An halo ever surrounds the soldier's life, 
because he is ever willing to die for his country. 

BATTLE OF DALLAS — BRECKENRIDGE CHARGES THE HEIGHTS. 

We are ordered to march to Dallas. 

Reader, somehow the name and character of General John 
C. Breckenridge charms me. That morning he looked grand 
and glorious. His infantry, artillery, and cavalry were drawn 



152 HUNDRED days' BATTLES. 

Up in line of battle in our immediate front. He passed along 
the line, and stopping about the center of the column, said, 
" Soldiers, we have been selected to go forward and capture 
yon heights. Do you think we can take them ? I will lead the 
attack." The men whooped, and the cr}', " We can, we can," 
was heard from one end of the line to the other. Then, " For- 
ward, guide center, march ! " were words re-repeated by 
Colonels and Captains. They debouched through the woods, 
and passed out of sight in a little ravine, when we saw them 
emerge in an open field and advance right upon the Federal 
breastworks. It was the grandest spectacle I ever witnessed. 
We could see the smoke and dust of battle, and hear the shout 
of the charge, and the roar and rattle of cannon and musketry. 
But Breckenridge's division continued to press forward, with- 
out wavering or hesitating. We can see the line of dead and 
wounded along the track over which he passed, and finally we 
see our battle flag planted upon the Federal breastworks. I 
cannot describe the scene. If you, reader, are an old soldier, 
you can appreciate my failure to give a pen picture of battle. 
But Breckenridge could not long hold his position. Why we 
were not ordered forward to follow up his success, I do not 
know ; but remember, reader, I am not writing history. I 
try only to describe events as I witnessed them. 

We marched back to the old church on the roadside, called 
New Hope church, and fortified, occupying the battlefield of 
the day before. The stench and sickening odor of dead men 
and horses were terrible. We had to breathe the putrid at- 
mosphere. 

The next day, Colonel W. M. Voorhies' Forty-eighth Ten- 
nessee Regiment took position on our right. 'Now, here were 
all the Maury county boys got together at New Hope church. 
I ate dinner with Captain Joe Love, and Frank Frierson filled 
my haversack with hardtack and bacon. 

BATTLE OF ZION CHURCH, JULY 4tH, 1864. 

The 4th day of July, twelve months before, Pemberton had 
surrendered twenty-five thousand soldiers, two hundred pieces 



HUNDRED days' BATTLES. 153 

of artillery, and other munitions of war in proportion, at 
Vicksburg. The Yankees wanted to celebrate the day. They 
thought it was their lucky day; but old Joe thought he had 
as much right to celebrate the Sabbath day of American In- 
dependence as the Yankees had, and we celebrated it. About 
dawn, continued boom of cannon reverberated over the hills 
as if firing a Fourth of July salute. I was standing on top of 
our works, leveling them off with a spade. A sharpshooter 
fired at rae, but the ball missed me and shot William A. Gra- 
ham through the heart. He was as noble and brave a soldier 
as ever drew the breath of life, and lacked but a few votes of 
being elected Captain of Company H, at the re-organization. 
He was smoking his pipe when he was shot. We started to 
carry him to the rear, but he remarked, " Boys, it is useless ; 
please lay me down and let me die." I have never in my life 
seen any one meet death more philosophically. He was dead 
in a moment. General A. J. Vaughan, commanding General 
Preston Smith's brigade, had his foot shot off by a cannon 
ball a few minutes afterwards. 

It seemed that both Confederate and Federal armies were 
celebrating the Fourth of July. I cannot now remember a 
more severe artillery duel. Two hundred cannon were roar- 
ing and belching like blue blazes. It was but a battle of can- 
nonade all day long. It seemed as though the Confederate 
and Federal cannons were talking to each other. Sometimes 
a ball passing over would seem to be mad, then again some 
would seem to be laughing, some would be mild, some sad, 
some gay, some sorrowful, some rollicking and jolly : and 
then again some would scream like the ghosts of the dead. 
In fact, they gave forth every kind of sound that you could 
imagine. It reminded one of when two storms meet in mid 
ocean — the mountain billows of waters coming from two di- 
rections, lash against the vessel's side, while the elements are 
filled with roaring, thundering and lightning. You could al- 
most feel the earth roll and rock like a drunken man, or a 
ship, when she rides the billows in an awful storm. It seemed 
that the earth was frequently moved from its foundations, 
11 



154 HUNDRED days' BATTLES. 

and you could hear it grate as it moved. But all through that 
storm of battle, every soldier stood firm, for we knew that old 
Joe was at the helm. 

KINGSTON. 

Here General Johnston issued his first battle order, that 
thus far he had gone and intended to go no further. His line 
of battle was formed; his skirmish line was engaged; the 
artillery was booming from the Rebel lines. Both sides were 
now face to face. There were no earthworks on either side. 
It was to be an open field and a fair fight, when — " Fall back ! " 
"What 's the matter ? I do not know how we got the news, 
hut here is what is told us — and so it w^as, every position we 
ever took. When we fell back the news would be, "Hood's 
line is being, enfiladed, and they are decimating his men, and 
he can't hold his position." But we fell back and took a posi- 
tion at 

CASSVILLE. 

Our line of battle was formed at Cassvillo. I never saw our 
troops happier or more certain of success. A sort of grand 
halo illumined every soldier's face. You could see self-confi- 
dence in the features of every private soldier. "We were con- 
fident of victory and success. It was like going to a frolic or 
a wedding. Joy was welling up in every heart. We w^ere 
going to whip and rout the Yankees. It seemed to be au}'- 
thing else than a fight. The soldiers were jubilant. Glad- 
ness w'as depicted on every countenance. I honestly believe 
that had a battle been fought at this place, every soldier 
would have distinguished himself. I believe a sort of fanati- 
cism had entered their souls, that w'hocver was killed would 
at once be carried to the seventh heaven. I am sure of one 
thing, that every soldier had faith enough in old Joe to have 
charged Sherman's whole army. When "Halt!" "Retreat!" 
What is the matter? General Hood says they are enfilading 
his line, and are decimating his men, and he can't hold his 
position. 



HUNDRED days' RATTLES. 155 

The same old story repeats itself. Old Joe's array is ever 
face to face with Sherman's incendiaries. We have faith in' 
old Joe's ability to meet Sherman whenever he dares to attack. 
The soldiers draAV their regular rations. Every time a blue 
coat comes in sight, there is a dead Yankee to bury. Sher- 
man is getting cautious, his army hacked. Thus we con- 
tinue to tall back for four months, day by day, for one hun- 
dred and ten days, fighting every day and night. 

ON THE BANKS OP THE CHATTAHOOCHEE. 

Our army had crossed the Chattahoochee. The Federal 
army was on the other side; our pickets on the south side, 
the Yankees on the north side. By a tacit agreement, as had 
ever been the custom, there was no firing across the stream. 
That was considered the boundary. It mattered not how 
large or small the stream, pickets rarely fired at each other. 
We would stand on each bank, and laugh and talk and brag 
across the stream. 

One day, while standing on the banks of the Chattahoo- 
chee, a Yankee called out : 

" Johnny, 0, Johnny, O, Johnny Reb." 

Johnny answered, "What do you want?" 
[; " You are whipped, aren't you ? " 

" InTo. The man who says that is a liar, a scoundrel, and a 
coward." 

"Well, anyhow, Joe Johnston is relieved of the command." 

"What?" 

" General Joseph E. Johnston is relieved." 

" What is that you say ? " 

" General Joseph E. Johnston is relieved, and Hood ap- 
pointed in his place." 

"You are a liar, and if you will come out and show your- 
self I will shoot you down in your tracks, you lying Yankee 
galloot." 

"That's more than I will stand. If the others will hands 
oft', I will fight a duel with you. Now, show your manhood." 



166 HUNDRKD days' BATTLES. 

Well, reader, every word of this is true, as is everything in 
this book. Both men loaded their guns and stepped out to 
their places. They were both to load and fire at will, until 
one or both were killed. They took their positions without 
either trying to get the advantage of the other. Then some 
one gave the command to "Fire at will; commence firing." 
They fired seven shots each ; at the seventh shot, poor John- 
ny Keb fell a corpse, pierced through the heart. 

REMOVAL OF GENERAL JOSEPH E. JOHNSTON. 

Such was the fact. General Joseph E. Johnston had been 
removed, and General J. B. Hood appointed to take com- 
mand. Generals Hardee and Kirby Smith, two old veterans, 
who had been identified with the Army of Tennessee from 
the beginning, resigned. We had received the intelligence 
from the Yankees. 

The relief guard confirmed the report. 

All the way from Rocky Face Ridge to Atlanta was a battle 
of a hundred days, yet Hood's line was all the time enfiladed 
and his men decimated, and he could not hoJd his position. 
Old Joe Johnston had taken command of the Army of Ten- 
nessee when it was crushed and broken, at a time when no 
other man on earth could have united it. He found it in rags 
and tatters, hungry and heart-broken, the morale of the men 
gone, their manhood vanished to the winds, their pride a thing 
of the past. Through his instrumentality and skillful ma- 
nipulation, all these had been restored. We had been under 
his command nearly twelve months. He was more popular 
with his troops day by day. We had made a long and ardu- 
ous campaign, lasting four months ; there was not a single 
day in that four months that did not find us engaged in battle 
with the enemy. History does not record a single instance 
of where one of his lines was ever broken — not a single rout. 
He had not lost a single piece of artillery; he had dealt the 
enemy heavy blows; he was whipping them day by day, yet 
keeping his own men intact; his men were in as good spirits 



HUNDRED days' BATTLES. 157 

and as sure of victory at the end of four months as they were 
at the beginning ; instead of the army being depleted, it had 
grown in strength. 'T is true, he had fallen back, but it was 
to give his enemy the heavier blows. He brought all the 
powers of his army into play ; ever on the defensive, 't is true, 
yet ever striking his enemy in his most vulnerable part. His 
face was always to the foe. They could make no movement 
in which they were not anticipated. Such a man was Joseph 
E. Johnston, and such his record. Farewell, old fellow ! We 
privates loved you because you made us love ourselves. Har- 
dee, our old corps commander, whom we had followed for 
nearly four years, and whom we had loved and respected from 
the beginning, has left us. Kirby Smith has resigned and 
gone home. The spirit of our good and honored Leonidas 
Polk is in heaven, and his body lies yonder on the Kennesaw 
line. General Breckenridge and other Generals resigned. I 
lay down my pen ; I can write no more ; my heart is too full. 
Reader, this is the saddest chapter I ever wrote. 

But now, after twenty years, I can see where General Jo- 
seph E. Johnston made many blunders in not attacking Sher- 
man's line at some point. He was better on the defensive 
than the aggressive, and hence, bis peccare in hello non licet. 

GENERAL HOOD TAKES COMMAND. 

It came like a flash of lightning, staggering and blinding 
every one. It was like applying a lighted match to an im- 
mense magazine. It was like the successful gambler, flushed 
with continual winnings, who staked his all and lost. It was 
like the end of the Southern Confederacy. Things that were, 
were not. It was the end. The soldier of the relief guard 
who brought us the news while picketing on the banks of 
the Chattahoochee, remarked, by way of imparting gently 
the information— 

" Boys, we've fought all the war for nothing. There is 
nothing for us in store now." 

" What's the matter now ?" 



158 HUNDRED days' BATTLES. 

" General Joe Johnston is relieved, Generals Hardee and 
Kirby Smith have resigned, and General Hood is appointed 
to take command of the army of Tennessee." 

"My God! is that so?" 

" It is certainly a fact." 

" Then I'll never fire another gun. Any news or letters 
that you wish carried home ? I've quit, and am going home. 
Please tender my resignation to Jetf Davis as a private sol- 
dier in the C. S. Army." 

Five men of that picket — there were just five — as rapidly 
as they could, took oft* their cartridge-boxes, after throwing 
down their guns, and then their canteens and haversacks, 
taking out of their pockets their gun-wipers, wrench and 
gun-stoppers, and saying they would have no more use for 
" them things." They marched oft", and it was the last we 
ever saw of them. In ten minutes they were across the 
river, and no doubt had taken the oath of allegiance to the 
United States Government. Such was the sentiment of the 
army of Tennessee at that time. 



ATLANTA. 159 



CHAP. XIII.— ATLANTA. 



HOOD STRIKES. 

General John B. Hood had the reputation of being a fight- 
ing man, and wishing to show Jeft" Davis w^hat a " bully '' 
fighter he was, lights in on the Yankees on Peachtree creek. 
But that was "I give a dare" affair. General 'William B. 
Bate's division gained their works, but did not long hold 
them. 

Our division, now commanded by General John C. Brown, 
was supporting Bate's division; our regiment supporting the 
Hundred and Fifty-fourth Tennessee which was pretty badly 
cut to pieces, and I remember how mad they seemed to be, 
because they had to fall back. 

Hood thought he would strike while the iron was hot, and 
while it could be hammered into shape, and make the Yan- 
kees believe that it was the powerful arm of old Joe that 
was wielding the sledge. 

But he was like the fellow who took a piece of iron to the 
shop, intending to make him an ax. After working for some 
time and failing, he concluded he would make him a wedge, 
and, failing in this, said, " I'll make a skeow." So he heats 
the iron red-hot and drops it into the slack-tub, and it went 
s-k-e-o-w, bubble, bubble, s-k-e-o-w, bust. 

KILLING A YANKEE SCOUT. 

On the night of the 20th, the Yankees were on Peachtree 
creek, advancing toward Atlanta. I was a videt that night, 
on the out-post of the army. I could plainly hear the mov- 
ing of their army, even the talking and laughing of the Fed- 
eral soldiers. I was standing in an old sedge field. About 



160 ATLANTA. 

midnight everything quieted down. I was alone in the dark- 
ness, left to watch while the army slept. The pale moon was 
on the wane, a little yellow arc, emitting but a dim light, and 
the clouds were lazily passing over it, while the stars seemed 
trying to wink and sparkle and make night beautiful. I 
thought of God, of heaven, of home, and I thought of Jen- 
nie — her whom I had ever loved, and who had given me her 
troth in all of her maiden purity, to be my darling bride so 
soon as the war was over. I thought of the scenes of my 
childhood, my school-boy days. I thought of the time when 
I left peace and home, for war and privations. I had Jen- 
nie's picture in my pocket Bible, along side of a braid of her 
beautiful hair. And I thought of how good, how pure, and 
how beautiful was the woman, who, if I lived, would share 
my hopes and struggles, my happiness as well as troubles, 
and who would be my darling bride, and happiness would 
ever be mine. An old owl had lit on an old tree near me and 
began to "hoo, hoo, hoo are you," and his mate would an- 
swer back from the lugubrious depths of the Chattahoochee 
swamps. A shivering ow^l also sat on the limb of a tree and 
kept up its dismal wailings. And ever now and then I could 
hear the tingle, tingle, tingle of a cow bell in the distance, 
and the shrill cry of the whip-poor-will. The shivering owl 
and whip-poor-will seemed to be in a sort of talk, and the 
jack-o'-lanterns seemed to be playing spirits — when, hush ! 
what is that? listen ! It might have been 2 o'clock, and I 
saw, or thought I saw, the dim outlines of a Yankee soldier, 
lying on the ground not more than ten steps from where I 
stood. I tried to imagine it was a stump or hallucination of 
the imagination. I looked at it again. The more I looked 
the m'ore it assumed the outlines of a man. Something glis- 
tens in my eyes. Am I mistaken? Tut, tut, it's nothing 
but a stump ; you are getting demoralized. What ! it seems 
to be getting closer. There are two tiny specks that shine 
like the eyes of a cat in the dark. Look here, thought I, 
you are getting nervous. Well, I can stand this doubt and 
agony no longer; I am going to fire at that object anyhow, 



ATLANTA. 161 

let come what will. I raised my gun, placed it to my shoul- 
der, took deliberate aim, and fired, and waugh-weouw, the 
most unearthly scream I ever heard, greeted my ears. I 
broke and run to a tree near by, and had just squatted behind 
it, when zip, zip two balls from our picket post struck the 
tree in two inches of my head. I hallooed to our picket not 
to fire that it was " me," the videt. I went back, and says I, 
" Who fired those two shots ?" Two fellows spoke up and 
said that they did it. No sooner* was it spoken, than I was 
on them like a duck on a june-bug, pugnis et calcihus. We 
" font and fit, and gouged and bit," right there in that picket 
post. I have the marks on my face and forehead where one 
of them struck me with a Yankee zinc canteen, filled with 
water. I do not know which whipped. My friends told me 
that I whipped both of them, and I suppose their friends 
told them that they had whipped me. All I know is, they 
both run, and I was bloody from head to foot, from where I 
had been cut in the forehead and face by the canteens. This 
all happened one dark night in the month of July, 1864, in 
the rifle pit in front of Atlanta. When day broke the next 
morning, I went forward to where I had shot at the "booga- 
boo " of the night before, and right there I found a dead 
Yankee soldier, fully accoutred for any emergency, his eyes 
wide open. I looked at him, and I said, " Old fellow, I ani 
sorry for you ; didn't know it was you, or I would have been 
worse scared than I was. You are dressed mighty fine, old 
fellow, but I don't want anything you have got, but your 
haversack." It was a nice haversack, made of chamois skin. 
I kept it until the end of the war, and when we surrenedred 
at Greensboro, N. C, I had it ofi. But the other soldiers 
who were with me, went through him and found twelve dol- 
lars in greenback, a piece of tobacco, a gun-wiper and gun- 
stopper and wrench, a looking-glass and pocket-comb, and 
various and sundry other articles. I came across that dead 
Yankee two days afterwards, and he was as naked as the day 
he came into the world, and was as black as a negro, and 
was as big as a skinned horse. He had mortified. I recol- 



162 ATLANTA. 

lect of saying, "Ugh, ugh," and of 1113' hat being lifted oft' 
my head, by my hair, which stood up like the quills of the 
fretful porcupine. lie scared me worse when dead than when 
living. 

AN OLD CITIZEN. 

But after the little unpleasant episode in the rifle pit, I 
went back and took my stand. When nearly clay, I saw the 
bright and beautiful star i;i the east rise above the tree tops, 
and the gray fog from oft' the river begun to rise, and every 
now and then could hear a far off' chicken crow. 

While I was looking toward the Yankee line, I saw a 
man riding leisurely along on horseback, and singing a sort 
of hum-drum tune. I took him to be some old citizen. He 
rode on down the road toward me, and when he had ap- 
proached, " Who goes there?" He immediately answered, 
"A friend." I thought that I recognized the voice in the 
darkness — and said I, " Who are you ?" He spoke up, and 
gave me his name. Then, said I, "Advance, friend, but you 
are my prisoner." He rode on toward me, and I soon saw 
that it was Mr. Mumford Smith, the old Sheriff' of Maury 
county. I was very glad to see him, and as soon as the relief 
guard came, I went back to camp with him. I do not re- 
member of ever in my life being more glad to see any per- 
son. He had brought a letter from home, from my father, 
and some Confederate old issue bonds, which I was mighty 
glad to get, and also a- letter from " the gal I left behind me," 
enclosing a rosebud and two apple blossoms, resting on an 
arbor vitx leaf, and this on a little piece of white paper, and 
on this was written a motto (which I will have to tell for 
the young folks), "Receive me, such as I am; would 
that I were of more use for your sake. Jennie." Now, that 
was the bouquet part. I would not like to tell you what was 
in that letter, but I read that letter over five hundred times, 
and remember it to-day. I think I can repeat the. poetry 
verbatim et literatim, and will do so, gentle reader, if you don't 
laugh at me. I'm married now, and onl}' write from mem- 



ATLANTA. 163 

ory, and never in my life have I read it in a book or paper, 
and only in that letter — 

" I love you, 0, how dearly, 

Words too faintly but express ; 
This heart beats too sincerely. 

E'er in life to love you less ; 
No, my fancy never ranges, 

Hopes like mine, can never soar ; 
If the love I cherish, changes, 

'Twill only be to love you more." 

Kow, fair and gentle reader, this was the poetry, and you 
see for yourself that there was no "shenanigan" in that 
letter; and if a fellow " went back " on that sort of a letter, 
he would strike his "mammy." And then the letter wound 
up with, " May God shield and protect you, and prepare you 
for whatever is in store for you, is the sincere prayer of Jen- 
nie." You may be sure that I felt good and happy, indeed. 

MY FRIENDS. 

iieader mine, in writing these rapid and imperfect recol- 
lections, I find that should I attempt to write up all the de- 
tails, that I would not only weary you, but that these memoirs 
would soon become monotonous and uninteresting. I have 
written only of what I saw. Many little acts of kindness 
shown me by ladies and old citizens, I have omitted. I re- 
member of going to an old citizen's house, and he and the 
old lady were making clay pipes. I recollect how they would 
mold the pipes and put them in a red-hot stove to burn hard. 
Their kindness to me will never be forgotten. The first time 
that I went there they seemed very glad to see me, and told 
me that I looked exactly like their son who was in the army. 
I asked them what regiment he belonged to. After a mo- 
ment's silence the old lady, her voice trembling as she spoke, 
said the Fourteenth Georgia, and then she began to cry. 
Then the old man said, " Yes, we have a son in the army. 
He went to Virginia the first year of the war, and we have 



164 ATLANTA. 

never heard from him since. These wars are terrible, sir. 
The last time that we heard of him, he went with Stonewall 
Jackson away up in the mountains of West Virginia, toward 
Romney, and I did hear that while standing picket at a little 
place called Hampshire Crossing, on a little stream called St. 
John's Run, he and eleven others froze to death. We have 
never heard of him since." He got up and began walking 
up and down the room, his hands crossed behind his back. I 
buckled on my knapsack to go back to camp, and I shook 
hands with the two good old people, and they told me good- 
bye, and both said, " God bless you, God bless you." I said 
the same to them, and said, " I pray God to reward you, and 
bring your son safe home again." When I got back to camp 
I found cannon and caissons moving, and I knew and felt 
that General Hood was going to strike the enemy again. 
Preparations were going on, but everything seemed to be out 
of order and system. Men were cursing, and seemed to be 
dissatisfied and unhappy, but the army was moving. 

A BODY AVITHOUT LIMBS — AN ARMY WITHOUT CAVALRY. 

Forrest's Cavalry had been sent to Mississippi ; Wheeler's 
Cavalry had been sent to North Carolina and East Tennessee. 
Hood had sent oft* both of his " arras " — for cavalry was al- 
ways called the most powerful "arm" of the service. The 
infantry were the feet, and the artillery the bod3^ ifsTow, 
Hood himself had no legs, and but one arm, and that one in 
a sling. The most terrible and disastrous blow that the 
South ever received was when Hon. Jefterson Davis placed 
General Hood in command of the army of Tennessee. I 
saw, I will say, thousands of men cry like babies — regular, 
old-fashioned boohoo, boohoo, boohoo. 

Now, Hood sent oft' all his cavalry right in the face of a 
powerful army, by order and at the suggestion of Jeft* Davis, 
and was using his cannon as "feelers." 0, God! Ye gods! 
I get sick at heart even at this late day when I think of it. 

I remember the morning that General Wheeler's Cavalry 



ATLANTA. 165 

filed by our brigade, and of their telling us, " Good-bye, boys, 
good-bye, boys." The First Tennessee Cavalry and Ninth 
Battallion were both made up in Maury county. I saw John 
J. Stephenson, my friend and step-brother, and David F. 
Watkins, my own dear brother, and Arch Lipscomb, Joe 
Fussell, Captain Kinzer, Jack Gordon, George Martin, Major 
Dobbins, Colonel Lewis, Captain Galloway, Aaron and Sims 
Latta, Major J. H. Akin, S. H. Armstrong, Albert Dobbins, 
Alex Dobbins, Jim Cochran, Rafe Grisham, Captain Jim 
Polk, and many others with whom I was acquainted. They 
all said, " Good-bye, Sam, good-bye, Sam." I cried. I re- 
member stopping the whole command and begging them to 
please not leave us; that if they did, Atlanta, and perhaps 
Hood's whole army would surrender in a few days ; but they 
told rae, as near as I can now remember, " We regret to leave 
you, but we have to obey orders." The most ignorant pri- 
vate in the whole army saw everything that we had been 
fighting for for four years just scattered like chaii' to the 
winds. All the Generals resigned, and those who did not re- 
sign were promoted ; Colonels were made Brigadier-Generals, 
Captains were made Colonels, and the private soldier, well, 
he deserted, don't you see ? The private soldiers of the array 
of Tennessee looked upon Hood as an over-rated General, 
but Jeff" Davis did not. 

BATTLE OF JULY 22, 1864. 

Cannon balls, at long range, were falling into the city of 
Atlanta. Details of citizens put out the fires as they would 
occur froni the burning shells. We could see the smoke rise 
and hear the shells pass away over our heads as they went on 
toward the doomed city. • 

One morning Cheatham's corps marched out and through 
the city, we knew not whither, but we soon learned that we 
were going to make a flank movement. After marching four 
or five miles, we " about faced" and marched back again to 
within two hundred yards of the place from whence we 



166 ATLANTA. 

started. It was a "flank movement," you see, and had to be 
counted that way any how. Well, now as we had made the 
flank movement, we had to storm and take the Federal lines, 
because we had made a flank movement, you see. When 
one army makes a flank movement, it i3 courtesy on the part 
of the other army to recognize the flank movement, and to 
change his base. Why, sir, if you don't recognize a flank 
movement, you ain't a graduate of West Point. Hood was 
a graduate of West Point, and so was Sherman. But un- 
fortunately there was Mynheer Dutchman commanding (Mc- 
pherson had gone to dinner) the corps that had been flanked, 
and he couldn't speak English worth a cent. He, no doubt, 
had on board raeiii lager beer, so goot as vat never vas. I 
sweitzer, mein Got, j^ou bet. Bang, bang, bang, goes our 
skirmish line, advancing to the attack. Hans, vot fer ish dot 
shooting rait mein left wing? Ish dot der Repels, Hans? 

THE ATTACK. 

The plan of battle, as conceived and put into action by 
General Cleburne, was one of the boldest conceptions, and, 
at the same time, one of the most hazardous that ever oc- 
curred in our army during the war, but it only required nerve 
and pluck to carry it out, and General Cleburne was equal to 
the occasion. The Yankees had fortified on two ranges of 
hills, leaving a gap in their breastworks in the valley 
entirely unfortified and unprotected. The}' felt that they 
could enfilade the valley between the two Hues so that no 
troop would or could attack at this weak point. This valley 
was covered with a dense undergrowth of trees and bushes. 
General Walker, of Georgia, was ordered to attack on the 
extreme right, which he did nobly and gallantly, giving his 
life for his country while leading his men, charging their 
breastworks. He was killed on the very top of their works. 
In the meantime General Cleburne's division was marching 
by the right flank in solid column, the same as if they were 
marching along the road, right up this valley, and thus pass- 



ATLANTA. 167 

ing between the Yankee lines and cutting thera in two, when 
the command by the left flank was given, which would 
throw them into line of battle. By this maneuver, Cle- 
burne's men were right upon their flank, and enfllading their 
lines, while they were expecting an attack in their front. It 
was the finest piece of generalship, and the most successful 
of the war. 

Shiueral Mynheer Dutchman says, " Hans, main Got ! mein 
Got! vare ish Shineral Mackferson, eh? Mein Got! mein 
Got ! I shust pelieve dot der Repel ish cooming. Hans, go 
cotch der filly colt. Now, Elans, 1 vants to see vedder der 
filly colt mid stand fire. You get on der filly colt, und I vill 
get pehind der house, und ven you shust coome galloping py, 
I vill say ' B-o-o-h,' und if der filly colt don't shump, den I 
vill know dot der filly colt mid stand fire." Hans says, 
" Pap, being as you have to ride her in the battle, you get on 
her, and let me say booh." Well, Shineral Mynheer gets on 
the colt, and Hans gets behind the house, and as the General 
comes galloping by, Hans had got an umbrella, and on seeing 
liis father approach, suddenly opens the umbrella, and hal- 
lowing at the top of his voice, b-o-o-h ! b-o-o-h! B-O-O-H! 
The filly makes a sudden jump and ker-flop comes down 
Mynheer. He jumps up and says, "Hans, I alvays knowed 
dot you vas a vool. You make too pig a booh ; vy you said 
booh loud enuff' to scare der ole horse. Hans, go pring out 
der ole horse. Der tarn Repel vill be here pefore Mackferson 
gits pack from der dinner time. I shust peleve dot der Repel 
ish flanking, und dem tam vool Curnells of mein ish not got 
sense enuff* to kuQw ven Sheneral Hood is flanking. Hans, 
bring out der old horse, I vant to find out vedder Mackferson 
ish got pack from der dinner time or not." 

We were supporting General Cleburne's division. Our 
division (Cheatham's) was commanded by General John C. 
Brown. Cleburne's division advanced to the attack. I was 
marching by the side of a soldier by the name of James 
Galbreath,and a conscript from the Mt. Pleasant country. I 
never heard a man pray and "go on" so before in my life. 



168 ATLANTA. 

It actually made me feel sorry for the poor fellow. Every 
time that our line would stop for a few minutes, he would 
get down on his knees and clasp his hands and commence 
praying. He kept saying, " 0, my poor wife and children! 
God have mercy on my poor wife and children! God pity me 
and have mercy on my soul !" Says I, " Galbreath, what are 
you making a fool of yourself that way for? If you are go- 
ing to be killed, why you are as ready now as you ever will 
be, and you are making everybody feel bad ; quit that non- 
sense." He quit, but kept mumbling to himself, " God have 
mercy! God have mercy !" Cleburne had reached the Yan- 
kee breastworks ; the firing had been and was then terrific. 
The earth jarred, and shook, and trembled, at the shock of 
battle as the two armies met. Charge, men ! And I saw the 
Confederate flag side by side with the Federal flag. A 
courier dashed up and said, " General Cleburne has captured 
their works — advance and attack upon his immediate left. 
Attention, forward !" A discharge of cannon, and a ball tore 
through our ranks. I heard Galbreath yell out, " 0, God, 
have mercy on my poor soul." The ball had cut his body 
nearly in two. Poor fellow, he had gone to his reward. 

We advanced to the attack on Clebarne's immediate left. 
Cleburne himself was leading us in person, so that we would 
not fire upon his men, who were then inside the Yankee 
line. His sword was drawn. I heard him say, " Follow me, 
boys." He ran forward, and amid the blazing fires of the 
Yankee guns, was soon on top of the enemy's works. He 
had on a bob-tail Confederate coat, which looked as if it had 
been cut out of a scrimp pattern. (You see I remember the 
little things). We were but a few paces behind, following 
close upon him, and soon had captured their lines of works. 
We were firing at the flying foe — astraddle of their lines of 
battle. This would naturally throw us in front, and Cle- 
burne's corps supporting us. The Yankee lines seemed 
routed. We followed in hot pursuit; but from their main 
line of entrenchment — which was diagonal to those that we 
had just captured, and also on which they had built forts and 



^ ATLANTA. 169 

erected batteries — was their artillery, raking us fore and aft. 
We passed over a hill and down into a valley, being- under 
the muzzles of this rampart of death. We had been charg- 
ing and running, and had stopped to catch our breath right 
under their reserve and main line of battle. When General 
George Maney said," Soldiers, you are ordered to go forward 
and charge that battery. When you start upon the charge, I 
want you to go as it were upon the wings of the wind. 
Shoot down and bayonet the cannoneers, and take their guns 
at all hazards." Old Pat Cleburne thought he had better put 
in a word to his soldiers. He says, " You hear what General 
Maney says, boys. If they don't take it, by the Eternal God, 
you have got to take it." I heard an Irishman of the " bloody 
Tinth," and a "darn good regiment, be jabbers," speak up, 
and say, " Faith, Gineral, we'll take up a collection and buy 
yon a batthery, be Jasus." Abont this time oar regiment 
had re-formed, and had got their breath, and the order was 
given to charge, and take their guns even at the point of the 
bayonet. We rushed forward up the steep hill sides, the 
seething fires from ten thousand muskets and small arms, 
and forty pieces of cannon hurled right into our very faces, 
scorching and burning our clothes, and hands, and faces 
from their rapid discharges, and piling the ground with our 
dead and wounded almost in heaps. It seemed that the hot 
flames of hell were turned loose in all their mad fury, while 
the demons of damnation were laughing in the flames, like 
seething serpents hissing out their rage. We gave one long, 
loud cheer, and commenced the charge. As we approached 
their lines, like a mighty inundation of the river Acheron in 
the infernal regions. Confederate and Federal meet. Officers 
with drawn swords meet officers with drawn swords, and man 
to man meets man to man with bayonets and loaded guns. 
The continued roar of battle sounded like unbottled thunder. 
Blood covered the ground, and the dense smoke filled our 
eyes, and ears, and faces. The groans of the wounded and 
dying rose above the thunder of battle. But being heavily 
supported by Cleburne's division, and by General L. E. Polk's 
12 



170 ATLANTA. 

brigade, headed and led by General Cleburne in person, and 
followed by the First and Twentj'-seventh up tiie blazing 
crest, the Federal lines waver, and break and fly, leaving us 
in possession of their breastworks, and the battle-field, and I 
do not know how many pieces of artillery, prisoners, and 
small arms. 

Here is where Major Allen, Lieutenant Joe Carney, Cap- 
tain Joe Carthell, and many other good and brave spirit 
gave their life for the cause of their country. They lie to- 
day, weltering in their own life's blood. It was one of the 
bloody battles that characterized that stormy epoch, and it 
was the 22nd of July, and one of the hottest days I ever felt. 

General George Maney led us in the heat of battle, and no 
General of the war acted with more gallantry and bravery 
during the whole war than did General George Maney on 
this occasion. 

The victory was complete. Large quantities of provisions 
and army stores were captured. The Federals had aban- 
doned their entire line of breastworks, and had changed 
their base. They were fortifying upon our left, about five 
miles oft' from their original position. The battle-field was 
covered with their dead and wounded soldiers, I have never 
seen so many battle-flags left indiscriminately upon any 
battle-field. I ran over twenty in the charge, and could have 
picked them up everywhere ; did pick up one, and was pro- 
moted to Fourth Corporal for gallantry in picking up a flag 
on the battle-field. 

On the final charge that was made, I was shot in the ankle 
and heel ot my foot. I crawled into their abandoned ditch, 
which then seemed full and running over with our wounded 
soldiers. I dodged behind the embankment to get out of 
the raking fire that was ripping through the bushes, and 
tearing up the ground. Here I felt safe. The firing raged in 
front; w^e could hear the shout of the charge and the clash 
of battle. While I was sitting here, a cannon ball came 
tearing down the works, cutting a soldier's head oft, spatter- 
ing his brains all over my face and bosom, and mangling and 



ATLANTA. 171 

tearing four or five others to shreds. As a wounded horse 
was being led off, a cannon ball struck him, and he was liter- 
ally ripped open, falling in the very place I had just moved 
from. 

I saw an ambulance coming from toward the Yankee line, 
at full gallop, saw them stop at a certain place, hastily put a 
dead man in the ambulance, and gallop back toward the 
Yankee lines. I did not know the meaning of this maneu- 
ver until after the battle, when I learned that it was General 
McPherson's dead body. 

"We had lost many a good and noble soldier. The casual- 
ties on our side were frightful. Generals, Colonels, Captains,. 
Lieutenants, Sergeants, Corporals and privates were piled in- 
discriminately everywhere. Cannon, caissons, and dead horses 
were piled pell-mell. It was the picture of a real battle- 
field. Blood had gathered in pools, and in some instances 
had made streams of blood. 'Twas a picture of carnage and 
death. 

AM PROMOTED. 

" Why, hello. Corporal, where did you get those two yel- 
low stripes from on your arm ?" 

" Why, sir, I have been promoted for gallantry on the bat- 
tle-field, by picking up an orphan flag, that had been run 
over by a thousand fellows, and when I picked it up I did so 
because I thought it was pretty, and I wanted to have me a 
shirt made out of it." 

" I could have picked up forty, had I known that," said 
Sloan. 

" So could I, but I knew that the stragglers would pick 
them up." 

Reader mine, the above dialogue is true in every particular. 
As long as I was in action, fighting for my country, there 
was no chance for promotion, but as soon as I fell out of 
ranks and picked up a forsaken and deserted flag, I was 
promoted for it. I felt "sorter" cheap when complimented 
for gallantry, and the high honor of Fourth Corporal was 



172 ATLANTA. 

conferred upon me. I felt that those brave and noble fellows 
who had kept on in the charge were more entitled to the 
honor than I was, for when the ball struck me on the ankle 
and heel, I did not go any further. And had I only known 
that picking up flags entitled me to promotion, and that 
every flag picked up would raise me one notch higher, I 
would have quit fighting and gone to picking up flags, and 
by that means I would have soon been President of the Con- 
federate States of America. But honors now begin to cluster 
around my brow. This is the laurel and ivy that is entwined 
around the noble brows of victorious and renowned Gen- 
erals. I honestly earned the exalted honor of Fourth Cor- 
poral by picking up a Yankee battle-flag on the 22nd of 
July, at Atlanta. 

28Tn OF JULY AT ATLANTA. 

Another battle was fought by Generals Stephen D. Lee 
and Stewart's corps, on the 28th day of July. I was not in 
it, neither was our corps, but from what I afterwards learned, 
the Yankees got the best of the engagement. But our troops 
continued fortifying Atlanta. No other battles were ever 
fought at this place. 

I VISIT MONTGOMERY. 

Our wounded were being sent back to Montgomery. My 
name was put on the wounded list. We were placed in a 
box-car, and whirling down to West Point, where we 
changed cars for Montgomery. The cars drew up at the 
depot at Montgomery, and we were directed to go to the 
hospital. When we got ofi" the cars, little huckster stands 
were everywhere — apples, oranges, peaches, watermelons, 
everything. I know that I never saw a greater display of 
eatables in my whole life. I was particularly attracted to- 
ward an old lady's stand ; she had bread, fish, and hard boiled 
eggs. The eggs were what I was hungry for. Says I: 

" Madam, how do you sell your eggs?" 



ATLANTA. 173 

" Two for a dollar," she said. 

" How much is your fish worth ?" 

" A piece of bread and a piece of fish for a dollar." 

" Well, madam, put out your fish and eggs." The fish 
were hot and done to a crisp — actually frying in my mouth, 
crackling and singing as I bit ofl' a bite. It was good, I tell 
you. The eggs were a little over half done. I soon demol- 
ished both, and it was only an appetizer. I invested a cou- 
ple of dollars more, and thought that may be I could make 
out till supper time. As I turned around, a smiling, one- 
legged man asked me if I wouldn't like to have a drink. 
IsTow, if there was anything that I wanted at that time, it 
was a drink. 

" How do you sell it?" says I. 

" A dollar a drink," said he. 

" Pour me out a drink." 

It was a tin cap-box. I thought that I knew the old fel- 
low, and he kept looking at me as if he knew me. Finally, 
he said to me : 

" It seems that I ought to know you." 

I told him that I reckon he did, as I had been there. 

" Ain't you name Sam?" said he. 

"That is what my mother called me." 

Well, after shaking hands, it suddenly flashed upon me 
who the old fellow was. I knew him well. He told me that 
he belonged to Captain Ed. O'Neil's company. Second Ten- 
nessee Regiment, General Wm. B. Bate's corps, and that 
his leg had been shot oflT at the first battle of Manassas, and 
at that time he was selling cheap whisky and tobacco for a 
living at Montgomery, Alabama. I tossed ofi:' a cap-box full 
and paid him a dollar. It staggered me, and I said : 

" That is raw whisky." 

"Yes," said he, " all my cooked whisky is out." 

"If this is not quite cooked, it is as hot as fire any how, 
and burns like red-hot lava, and the whole dose seems to have 
got lodged in my windpipe." 

I might have tasted it, but don't think that I did. All I 



174 ATLANTA. 

can remember now, is a dim recollection of a nasty, greasy, 
burning something going down my throat and chest, and 
smelling, as I remember at this day, like a decoction of red- 
pepper tea, flavored with coal oil, turpentine, an^ tobacco 
juice. 

THE HOSPITAL. 

I went to the hospital that evening, saw it, and was satis- 
fied with hospital life. I did not wish to be called a hospital 
rat. I had no idea of taking stock and making my head- 
quarters at this place. Everything seemed clean and nice 
enough, but the smell ! Ye gods ! I stayed there for supper. 
The bill of fare was a thin slice of light bread and a plate of 
soup, already dished out and placed at every plate. I ate it, 
but it only made me hungry. At 9 o'clock I had to go to 
bed, and all the lights were put out. Every man had a little 
bunk to himself. I do not know whether I slept or not, but 
I have a dim recollection of "sawing gourds," and jumping 
up several times to keep some poor wretch from strangling. 
He was only snoring. I heard the rats filing away all night, 
and thought that burglars were trying to get in ; my 
dreams were not pleasant, if I went to sleep at all. I had 
not slept off of the ground or in a house in three years. It 
was something new to me, and I could not sleep, for the room 
was so dark that had I got up I could not have found my 
way out. I laid there, I do not know how long, but I heard 
a rooster crow, and a dim twilight begin to glimmer in the 
room, and even footsteps were audible in the rooms below. I 
got sleep}' then, and went off in a doze. I had a beautiful 
dream — I dreamed that I was in heaven, or rather, that a pair 
of stairs with richly carved balusters and wings, and golden 
steps overlaid with silk and golden-colored carpeting came 
down from heaven to my room ; and two beautiful damsels 
kept peeping, and laughing, and making faces at me from 
the first platform of these steps ; and every now and then 
they would bring out their golden harps, and sing me a sweet 
and happy song. Others were constantly passing, but always 



ATLANTA. 175 

going the same way. They looked like so many school-girls, 
all dressed in shining garments. Two or three times the two 
beautifal girls would go up the stairs and return, bringing 
fruits and vegetables that shined like pure gold. I knew that 
I never had seen two more beautiful beings on earth. The 
steps began to lengthen out, and seemed to be all around me ; 
they seemed to shine a halo of glory all about. The two 
ladies came closer, and closer, passing around, having a beau- 
tiful wreath of flowers in each hand, and gracefully throw- 
ing them backward and forward as they laughed and danced 
around me. Finally, one stopped and knelt down over me 
and whispered something in my ear. I threw up my arms to 
clasp the beautiful vision to my bosom, when I felt my arm 
grabbed, and "D — n ye, I wish you would keep your d — n 
arm oft" my wound, ye hurt me," came from the soldier in 
the next bunk. The sun was shining full in my face. I got 
up and went down to breakfast. The bill of fare was much 
better for breakfast than it had been for supper; in fact, it 
was what is called a *'jarvis" breakfast. After breakfast, 1 
took a ramble around the cit}'. It was a nice place, and 
merchandise and other business was being carried on as if 
there was no war. Hotels were doing a thriving business ; 
steamboats were at the wharf, whistling and playing their 
calliopes. I remember the one I heard was playing "Away 
Down on the Sewanee River." To me it seemed that every- 
body was smiling, and happy, and prosperous. 

THE CAPITOL. 

I went to the Capitol, and it is a fine building, overlooking 
the city. • When I got there, I acted just like everybody that 
ever visited a fine building — they wanted to go on top and 
look at the landscape. That is what they all sa3\ Now, I 
always wanted to go on top, but I never yet thought of land- 
scape. What I always wanted to see, was how far I could 
look, and that is about all that any of them wants. It's 
mighty nice to go up on a high place with your sweetheart, 



176 ATLANTA. 

and hear her say, "La! ain't it b-e-a-u-t-i-f-u-1," "Now, 
now, please don't go there," and how you walk up pretty 
close to the edge and spit over, to show what a brave man 
you are. It's "bully," I tell you. Well, I wanted to go to 
the top of the Capitol — I \\''ent; wanted to go up in the 
cupola. Now, there was an iron ladder running up across 
an empty space, and you could see two hundred feet below 
from this cupola or dome on top. The ladder was about ten 
feet long, spanning the dome. It was very easy to go up, 
because I was looking up all the time, and I was soon on top 
the building. I saw how far I could see, and saw the Ala- 
bama river, winding and turning until it seemed no larger 
than a silver thread. Well, I am very poor at describing 
and going into ecstacies over fancies. I want some abler pen 
to describe the scene. I was not thinking about the scene or 
the landscape either — I was thinking how I was going to get 
down that ladder asrain. I would come to that iron ladder 
and peep over, and think if I fell, how far would I have to 
fall. The more I thought about going down that ladder, the 
more I didn't feel like going down. Well, I felt that I had 
rather die than go down that ladder. I'm honest in this. I 
felt like jumping oft" and committing suicide rather than go 
down that ladder. I crossed right over the frightful chasm, 
but when forbearance ceased to be a virtue, I tremblingly 
put my foot on the first rung, then grabbed the top of the 
two projections. There I remained, I don't know how long, 
but after awhile I reached down with one foot and touched 
the next rung. After getting that foot firmly placed, I ven- 
tured to risk the other foot. It was thus for several back- 
ward steps, until I conie to see down — away down, down, 
down below me — and my head got giddy. The world seemed 
to be turning round and round. A fellow at the bottom hal- 
looed, "Look up ! look up, mister ! look up !" I was not a 
foot from the upper floor. As soon as 1 looked at the floor, 
everything got steady. I kept my eyes fixed on the top of 
the building, and soon made the landing on terra firma. 
I have never liked high places since. I never could bear 



ATLANTA. 177 

to go up-stairs in a house. I went to the Capitol at Nash- 
ville, last winter, and McAndrews wanted me to go up in 
the cupola with him. He went, and paid a quarter for the 
privilege. I staid, and — well, if I could estimate its value by 
dollars — I would say two hundred and fifty million dollars is 
what I made by staying down. 

AM ARRESTED. 

The next day, while the ferryboat was crossing the river, 
I asked the ferryman to let me ride over. I was halted by a 
soldier who " knowed " his business. 

" Your pass, sir !" 

" Well, I have no pass !" 

" Well, sir, I will have to arrest you, and take you before 
the Provost Marshal." 

"Very well, sir; I will go with you to the Provost or any- 
where else." 

I appear before the Provost Marshal. 

"What command do you belong to, sir?" 

" Well, sir, I belong to Company H, First Tennessee Regi- 
ment. I am a wounded man sent to the hospital." 

" Well, sir, that's too thin ; why did you not get a pass?" 

" I did not think one was required." 

" Give me your name, sir." 

I gave my name. 

" Sergeant, take this name to the hospital and ask if such 
name is registered on their books?" 

I told him that I knew it was not. The Sergeant returns 
and reports no such name, when he remarks ; 

" You have to go to the guard-house." 

Says I, "Colonel," (I knew his rank was that of Captain), 
" if you send me to the guard-house, you will do me a great 
wrong. Here is where I was wounded." I pulled ofl' my 
shoe, and begun to unbandage. 

" Well, sir, I don't want to look at your foot, and I have 
no patience with you. Take him to the guard-house." 



178 ATLANTA. 

Turning back I said, " Sir, aye, aye, you are clothed with 
a little brief authority, and appear to be presuming pretty 
heavy on that authority; but, sir" — well I have forgotten 
what I did say. The Sergeant took me by the arm, and 
said, " Come, come, sir, I have my orders." 

As I was going up the street, I met Captain Dave Buck- 
ner, and told him all the circumstances of my arrest as briefly 
as I could. lie said, " Sergeant, bring him back with me to 
the Provost Marshal's office." They were as mad as wet 
hens. Their faces were burning, and I could see their jugular 
veins go thump, thump, thump. I do not know what Cap- 
tain Buckner said to them, all I heard were the words " oth- 
erwise insulted me." But I was liberated, and was glad 
of it. 

THOSE GIRLS. 

I then went back to the river, and gave a fellow two dol- 
lars to " Row me over the ferry." I was in no particular 
hurry, and limped along at my leisure until about nightfall, 
when I came to a nice, cosy-looking farm house, and asked 
to stay all night. I was made very welcome, indeed. There 
were two very pretty girls here, and I could have " Lpved 
either were 'tother dear charmer away." But I fell in love 
with both of them, and thereby overdid the thing. This was 
by a dim fire-light. The next day was Sunday, and we all 
went to church in the country. We went in an old rocka- 
way carriage. I remember that the preacher used the words 
" 0, God" nineteen times in his prayer. I had made up my 
mind which one of the girls I would marry. Now, don't get 
mad, fair reader mine. I was all gallantry and smiles, and 
when we arrived at home, I jumped out and took hold the 
hand of my fair charmer to help her out. She put her foot 
out, and — well, I came very near telling — she tramped on a 
cat. The cat squalled. 

THE TALISMAN. 

But then, you know, reader, that I was engaged to Jennie, 
and I had a talisman in my pocket Bible, in the way of a 



ATLANTA. 179 

love letter, against the charms of other beautiful and inter- 
esting young ladies. Uncle Jimmie Rieves had been to 
Maury county, and, on returning to Atlanta, found out that 
I was wounded and in the hospital at Montgomery, and 
brought the letter to me ; and, as I am married now, I don't 
mind telling you what was in the letter, if you won't laugh 
at me. You see, Jennie was my sweetheart, and here is my 
sweetheart's letter : 

My Dear Sam.: — I write to tell you that I love you yet, and you alone ; 
and day by day I love you more, and I pray every night and morning for 
your safe return home again. My greatest grief is that we heard you were 
wounded and in the hospital, and I cannot be with you to nurse you. 

We heard of the death of many noble and brave men at Atlanta; and 
the death of Captain Carthell, cousin Mary's husband. It was sent by Cap- 
tain January ; he belonged to the Twelfth Tennessee, of which Colonel 
Watkins was Lieutenant-Colonel. 

The weather is very beautiful here, and the flowers in the garden are in 
full bloom, and the apples are getting ripe. I have gathered a small bou- 
quet, which I will put in the letter ; I also send by Uncle Jimmie a tobacco 
bag, and a watch-guard, made out of horse hair, and a woolen hood, knit 
with my own hands, with my love and best respects. 

We heard that you had captured a flag at Atlanta, and was promoted for 
it to Corporal. Is that some high office? I know you will be a General 
yet, because I always hear of your being in eveiy battle, and always the fore- 
most man in the attack. Sam, please take care of yourself for my sake, 
and don't let the Yankees kill you. Well, gefod-bye, darling, I will ever 
pray for God's richest and choicest blessings upon you. Be sure and write 
a long, long letter — I don't care how long, to your loving and sincere 

Jennie. 

THE BRAVE CAPTAIN. 

When I got back to the Alabama river, opposite Mont- 
gomery, the ferryboat was on the other shore. A steamboat 
had just pulled out of its moorings and crossed over to where 
I was, and began to take on wood. I went on board, and 
told the Captain, who was a clever and good man, that I 
would like to take a trip with him to Mobile and back, and 
that I was a wounded soldier from the hospital. He^told me 
" All right, come along, and I will foot expenses." 

It was about sunset, but along the line of the distant hori- 



180 ' ATLANTA. 

zon we could see the dark and heavy clouds begin to boil up 
in thick and ominous columns. The lightning was darting 
to and fro like lurid sheets of fire, and the storm seemed to 
be gathering; we could hear the storm king in his chariot 
in the clouds, rumbling as he came, but a dead lull was seen 
and felt in the air and in nature; everything was in a holy 
hush, except the hoarse belchings of the engines, the sizzing 
and frying of the boilers, and the work of the machinery on 
the lower deck. At last the storm burst upon us in all its 
fury ; it was a tornado, and the women and children began 
to scream and pray — the mate to curse and swear. I was 
standing by the Captain on the main upper deck, as he was 
trying to direct the pilot how to steer the boat through that 
awful storm, when we heard the alarm bell ring out, and the 
hoarse cry of " Fire! fire! fire!" Men were running toward 
the fire with buckets, and the hose began throwing water on 
the flames. Men, women, and children were jumping hi the 
water, and the Captain used ever}'- effort to quiet the panic, 
and to land his boat with its passengers, but the storm and 
fire were too much, and down the vessel sank to rise no 
more. Many had been saved in the lifeboat, and many were 
drowned. I jumped overboard, and the last thing I saw was 
the noble and brave Captain still ringing the bell, as the ves- 
sel went down. He went down amid the flames to fill a 
watery grave. The water was full of struggling and dying 
people for miles. I did not go to Mobile. 

HOW I GET BACK TO ATLANTA. 

"When I got to Montgomery, the cars said toot, toot, and I 
raised the hue and cry and followed in pursuit. Kind friends, 
I fear that I have wearied you with m}' visit to Montgomery, 
but I am going back to camp now, and will not leave it again 
until our banner is furled never to be again unfurled. 

I, you remember, was without a pass, and did not wish to 
be carried a second time before that good, brave, and just 
Provost Marshal ; and something told me not to go the hos- 



ATLANTA. 181 

pital. I found out when the cars would leave, and thought 
that I would get on them and go back without any trouble. 
I got on the cars, but was hustled off mighty quick, because 
I had no pass. A train of box-cars was about leaving for 
West Point, and I took a seat on top of one of them, and 
was again hustled off; but I had determined to go, and as 
the engine began to puff, and tug, and pull, I slipped in be- 
tween two box-cars, sitting on one part of one and putting 
my feet on the other, and rode this way until T got to West 
Point. The conductor discovered me, and had put me off 
several times before I got to West Point, but I would jump 
on again as soon as the cars started. When I got to West 
Point, a train of cars started oft', and I ran, trying to get on, 
when Captain Peebles reached out his hand and pulled me 
in, and I arrived safe and sound at Atlanta. 

On my way back to Atlanta, I got with Dow Akin and 
Billy March. Billy March had been shot through the under 
jaw by a miunie ball at the octagon house, but by proper 
attention and nursing, he had recovered. Conner Akin was 
killed at the octagon house, and Dow wounded. When we 
got back to the regiment, then stationed near a fine concrete 
house (where Shepard and I would sleep every night), nearly 
right on our works, we found two thirty-tvvo-pound parrot 
guns stationed in our immediate front, and throw^ing shells 
away over our heads into the city of Atlanta. We had just 
begun to tell all the boys howdy, when I saw Dow Akin fall. 
A fragment of shell had struck him on his backbone, and he 
was carried back wounded and bleeding. We could see the 
smoke boil up, and it would be nearly a minute before we 
would hear the report of the cannon, and then a few mo- 
ments after we would hear the scream of the shell as it went 
on to Atlanta. We used to count from the time we would 
see the smoke boil up until we would hear the noise, and 
some fellow would call out, "Look out, boys, the United 
States is sending iron over into the Southern Confederacy; 
let's send a little lead back to the United States." And we 
would blaze away with our Enfield and Whitworth guns, and 



182 ATLANTA. 

every time we would fire, we would silence those parrot 
guns. This kind of fun was carried on for forty-six days. 

DEATH OP TOM TUCK'S ROOSTER. 

Atlanta was a great place to fight chickens. I had heard 
much said about cock pits and cock fights, but had never 
seen such a thing. Away over the hill, outside of the range 
of Thomas' thirty-pound parrot guns, with which he was 
trying to burn up Atlanta, the boys had fixed up a cock pit. 
It was fixed exactly like a circus ring, and seats and benches 
were arranged for the spectators. Well, I w^ent to the cock 
fight one day. A great many roosters were to be pitted that 
day, and each one was trimmed and gafi'ed. A gatf is a long 
keen piece of steel, as shart as a needle, that is fitted over the 
spurs. Well, I looked on at the fun. Tom Tuck's rooster 
was named Southern Confederacy ; but this was abbreviated 
to Confed., and as a pet name, they called him Fed. Well, 
Fed was a trained rooster, and would "clean up" a big- foot 
rooster as soon as he was put in the pit. But Tom always 
gave Fed every advantage. One day a green-looking country 
hunk came in with a rooster that he wanted to pit against 
Fed. He looked like a common rail-splitter. The money 
was soon made up, and the stakes placed in proper hands. 
The gafl's were fitted, the roosters were placed in the pit and 
held until both were sufllciently mad to fight, when they were 
turned loose, and each struck at the same time. I looked, 
and poor Fed was dead. The otli^r rooster had popped both 
gafts through his head. He was a dead rooster ; yea, a dead 
cock in the pit. Tom went and picked up his rooster, and 
said, " Poor Fed, I loved you ; you used to crow every morn- 
ing at daylight to wake me up. I have carried you a long 
time, but, alas ! alas ! poor Fed, your days are numbered, 
and those who fight will sometimes be slain. Now, friends, 
conscripts, countrymen, if 3'ou have any tears to shed, pre- 
pare to shed them now. I will not bury Fed. The evil that 
roosters do live after them, but the erood is oft interred with 



ATLANTA. 183 

their bones. So let it not be with Confed. Confed left do 
will, but I will pick him, and fry him, and dip my biscuit in 
his gravy. Poor Fed, Confed, Confederacy, I place one hand 
on my heart and one on my head, regretting that I have not 
another to place on my stomach, and whisper, softly whisper, 
in the most doleful accents. Good-bye, farewell, a long fare- 
well. 



'J 



" Not a laugh was heard — not even a joke — 

As the dead rooster in the camp-kettle they hurried ; 
For Tom had lost ten dollars, and was broke, 
In the cock-pit where Confed was buried. 

They cooked him slowly in the middle of the day, 
As the frying-pan they were solemnly turning ; 

The hungry fellows looking at him as he lay, 
With one side raw, the other burning. 

Some surplus feathers covered his breast, 
Not in a shroud, but in a tiara they soused him ; 

He lay like a ' picked chicken ' taking his rest, 
While the Eebel boys danced and cursed around him. 

Not a few or short were the cuss words they said, 

Yet, they spoke many words of sorrow ; 
As they steadfastly gazed on the face of the dead, 

And thought ' what'll we do for a chicken to-morrow ? ' 

Lightly they'll talk of the Southern Confed. that's gone, 

And o'er his empty carcass upbraid him ; 
But nothing he'll reck, if they let him sleep on, 

In the place where they have laid him. 

Sadly and slowly they laid him down. 

From the field of fame fresh and gory ; 
They ate ofi' his flesh, and threw away his bones. 

And then left them alone in their glory." 

When, cut, slash, bang, debang, and here comes a dash of 
Yankee cavalry, right in the midst of the camp, under whip 
und spur, yelling like a band of wild Comanches, and bear- 
ing right down on the few mourners around the dead body 
of Confed. After making this bold dash, they about faced, 



184 ATLANTA. 

and were soon out of sight. There was no harm done, but, 
alas! that cooked chicken was gone. Poor Confed ! To 
what a sad end you have come. Just to think, that but a 
few short hours ago, you was a proud rooster — was "cock of 
the walk," and was considered invincible. But, alas! you 
have sunk so low as to become food for Federals ! Bequiescat 
ill pace — you can crow no more. 



OLD JOE BROWN S PETS. 

By way of grim jest, and a fitting burlesque to tragic 
scenes, or rather to the thing called "glorious war," old Joe 
Brown, then Governor of Georgia, sent in his militia. It 
was the richest picture of an army I ever saw. It beat Fore- 
paugh's double-ringed circus. Every one was dressed in citi- 
zen's clothes, and the very best they had at that time. A 
few had double-barreled shot-guns, but the majority had um- 
brellas and walking-sticks, and nearly every one had on a 
duster, a flat-bosomed "biled" shirt, and a plug hat; and, to 
make the thing more ridiculous, the dwarf and the giant 
were marching side by side; the knock-kneed by the side of 
the bow-legged; the driven-in by the side of the drawn-out; 
the pale and sallow dyspeptic, who looked like Alex. Steph- 
ens, and who seemed to have just been taken out of a chim- 
ney that smoked very badly, and whose diet was goobers and 
sweet potatoes, was placed beside the three-hundred-pounder, 
who was dressed up to kill, and whose looks seemed to say, 
" I've got a substitute in the army, and twenty negroes at 
home besides — h-a-am, h-a-a-m." Now, that is the sort of 
army that old Joe Brown had when he seceded from the 
Southern Confederacy, declaring that each State was a sepa- 
rate sovereign government of itself; and, as old Joe Brown 
was an original secessionist, he wanted to exemplify the grand 
principles of secession, that had been advocated by Patrick 
Henry, John Randolph, of Roanoke, and John C. Calhoun, 
in all of whom he was a firni believer. I will say, however, 
in all due deference to the Geors^ia militia and old Joe Brown's 



ATLANTA. 185 

pets, that there was many a gallant and noble fellow among 
them. I remember on one occasion that I was detailed to 
report to a Captain of the Fourth Tennessee Regiment (Colo- 
nel Farquharson, called " Guidepost,") ; I have forgotten that 
Captain's name. He was a small-sized man, with a large, 
long set of black whiskers. He was the Captain, and I the 
Corporal of the detail. We were ordered to take a company 
of the Georgia militia on a scout. We went away around 
to our extreme right wing, passing through Terry's mill 
pond, and over the old battle-field of the 22nd, and past the 
place where General Walker fell, when we came across two 
ladies. One of them kept going from one tree to another, 
and saying, " This pine tree, that pine tree : this pine tree, 
that pine tree." On answer to our inquiry, they informed us 
that the young woman's husband was killed on the 22nd, 
and had been buried under a pine tree, and she was nearly 
crazy because she could not find his dead body. We passed 
on, and as soon as we came in sight of the old line of Yankee 
breastworks, an unexpected volley of miunie balls was fired 
into our ranks, killing this Captain of the Fourth Tennessee 
Regiment, and killing and wounding seven or eight of the 
Georgia militia. I hallooed to lay down, as soon as possible, 
and a perfect whizz of minnie balls passed over, when I im- 
mediately gave the command of attention, forward, charge 
and capture that squad. That Georgia militia, every man of 
them, charged forward, and iti a few moments we ran into a 
small squad of Yankees, and captured the whole " lay out." 
We then carried back to camp the dead Captain and the 
killed and wounded militia. I had seen a great many men 
killed and wounded, but some how or other these dead and 
wounded men, of that day, made a more serious impression 
on my mind than in any previous or subsequent battles. 
They were buried with all the honors of war, and I never 
will forget the incidents and scenes of this day as long as I 
live. 

WE GO AFTER STONEMAN. 

One morning our regiment was ordered to march, double- 
13 



186 ATLANTA. 

quick, to the depot to take the cars for somewhere. The 
engine was under steam, and ready to start for that mysteri- 
ous somewhere. The whistle blew long and loud, and away 
we went at break-neck speed for an hour, and drew up at a 
little place by the name of Jonesboro. The Yankees had 
captured the town, and were tearing up the railroad track. 
A regiment of Rebel infantry and a brigade of cavalry were 
already in line of battle in their rear. We jumped out of 
the cars and advanced to attack them in front. Our line had 
just begun to open a pretty brisk fire on the Yankee cavalry, 
when they broke, running right through and over the lines 
of the regiment of infantry and brigade of cavalrj' in their 
rear, the men opening ranks to get out of the way of the 
hoofs of their horses. It was Stoneman's Cavalry, upon its 
celebrated raid toward Macon and Andersonville to liberate 
the Federal prisoners. We went to w^ork like beavers, and 
in a few hours the railroad track had been repaired so that we 
could pass. Every few miles we would find the track torn 
up, but we would get out of the cars, fix up the track, and 
light out again. We were charging a brigade of cavalry 
with a train of cars, as it were. They would try to stop our 
progress by tearing up the track, but we were crowding them 
a little too strong. At last they thought it was time to quit 
that foolishness, and then commenced a race between cavalry 
and cars for Macon, Georgia. The cars had to run exceed- 
ingly slow and careful, fearing a tear up or ambuscade, but 
at last Macon came in sight. Twenty-five or thirty thousand 
Federal prisoners were confined at this place, and it was poorly 
guarded and protected. We feared that Stoneman would 
only march in, overpower the guards, and liberate the pris- 
oners, and we would have some tall fighting to do, but on ar- 
riving at Macon, we found that Stoneman and all of his com- 
mand had just surrendered to a brigade of cavalry and the 
Georgia militia, and we helped march the gentlemen inside 
the prison walls at Macon. They had furnished their own 
transportation, paying their own way, and bearing their own 
expenses, and instead of liberating any prisoners, were them- 



ATLANTA. 187 

selves imprisoned. An extra detail was made as guard from 
our regiment to take them on to Andersonville, but I was 
not on this detail, so I remained until the detail returned. 

Macon is a beautiful place. Business was flourishing like 
a green bay tree. The people were good, kind, and clever to 
us. Everywhere the hospitality of their homes was prof- 
fered us. We were regarded as their liberators. They gave 
us all the good things they had — eating, drinking, etc. We 
felt our conseqGence, I assure you, reader. We felt we were 
heroes, indeed; but the benzine and other fluids became a 
little promiscuous, and the libations of the boys a little too 
heavy. They began to get boisterous — I might say, riotous. 
Some of the boys got to behaving badly, and would go into 
stores and places, and did many things they ought not to 
have done. In fact, the whole caboodle of them ought to 
have been carried to the guard-house. They were whooping, 
and yelling, and firing oif their guns, just for the fun of the 
thing. 1 remember of going into a very nice family's house, 
and a dog came in the room where the family and we were, 
and the old lady told the dog to go out, go out, sir! and re- 
marked rather to herself, "Go out, go out ! I wish you were 
killed, anyhow." John says, " Madam, do you want that 
dog killed, sure enough ?" She says, " Yes, I do. I do wish 
that he was dead." Before I could even think or catch ray 
breath, bang went John's gun, and the dog was weltering in 
his blood right on the good lady's floor, the top of his head 
entirely torn off. I confess, reader, that I came very near 
jumping out of my skin, as it were, at the unexpected dis- 
charge of the gun. And other such scenes, I reckon, were 
being enacted elsewhere, but at last a detail was sent around 
to arrest all stragglers, and we were soon rolling back to 
Atlanta. 

"bellum lethale." 

Well, after "jugging" Stoneraan, we go back to Atlanta, 
and occupy our same old place near the concrete house. We 
found everything exactly as we had left it, with the excep- 



188 ATLANTA. 

tion of the increased number of graybacks, which seemed to 
have propagated a thousand-fold since we left, and they were 
crawling about like ants, making little paths and tracks iu 
the dirt as they wiggled and waddled about, hunting for ye 
old Rebel soldier. Sherman's two thirty-pound parrot guns 
were in the same position, and every now and then a lazy- 
looking shell would pass over, speeding its way on to At- 
lanta. 

The old citizens had dug little cellars, which the soldiers 
called "gopher holes," and the women and children were 
crowded together in these cellars, while Sherman was trying 
to burn the city over their heads. But, as I am not writing 
histor}^ I refer you to any history of the war for Sherman's 
war record in and around Atlanta. 

As John and I started to go back, we thought we would 
visit the hospital. Great God! I get sick to-day when I 
think of the agony, and suffering, and sickening stench and 
odor of dead and dying; of wounds and sloughing sores, 
caused by the deadly gangrene ; of the groaning and wailing. 
I cannot describe it. I remember, I went in the rear of the 
building, and there I saw a pile of arms and legs, rotting 
and decomposing; and, although I saw thousands of horri- 
fying scenes during the war, yet to-day I have no recollec- 
tion in my whole life, of ever seeing anything that I remem- 
ber with more horror than that pile of legs and arms that 
had been cut off our soldiers. As John and I went through 
the hospital, and were looking at the poor sufl'ering fellows, 
I heard a weak voice calling, " Sam, O, Sam." I went to the 
poor fellow, but did not recognize him at first, but soon 
found out that it was James Galbreath, the poor fellow who 
had been shot nearly in two on the 22nd of July. I tried to 
be cheerful, and said, " Hello, Galbreath, old fellow, I thought 
you were in heaven long before this." He laughed a sort of 
dry, cracking laugh, and asked me to hand him a drink of 
water. I handed it to him. He then began to mumble and 
tell me something in a rambling and incoherent way, but all 
I could catch was for me to write to his family, who were 



ATLANTA. 189 

living near Mt. Pleasant. I asked him if he was badly 
wounded. He only pulled down the blanket, that was all. I 
get sick when I think of it. The lower part of his body was 
hanging to the upper part by a shred, and all of his entrails 
were lying on the cot with him, the bile and other excre- 
ments exuding from them, and they full of maggots. I re- 
placed the blanket as tenderly as I could, and then said, 
" Galbreath, good-bye." I then kissed him on his lips and 
forehead, and left. As I passed on, he kept trying to tell me 
something, but I could not make out what he said, and fear- 
iug'I would cause him to exert himself too much, I left. 

It was the only field hospital that I saw during the whole 
war, and I have no desire to see another. Those hollow-eyed 
and sunken-cheeked sufferers, shot in every conceivable part 
of the body; some shrieking, and calling upon their moth- 
ers; some laughing the hard, cackling laugh of the sufferer 
without hope, and some cursing like troopers, and some 
writhing and groaning as their wounds were being bandaged 
and dressed. I saw a man of the Twenty-seventh, who had 
lost his right hand, another his leg, then another whose head 
was laid open, and I could see his brain thump, and another 
with his under jaw shot off'; in fact, wounded in every man- 
ner possible. 

Ah ! reader, there is no glory for the private soldier, much 
less a conscript. James Galbreath was a conscript, as was" 
also Fain King. Mr. King was killed at Chickamauga. He 
and Galbreath were conscripted and joined Company II at 
the same time. Both were old men, and very poor, with 
large families at home; and they were forced to go to war 
against their wishes, while their wives and little children 
were at home without the necessaries of life. The officers 
have all the glory. Glory is not for the private soldier, such 
as die in the hospitals, being eat up with the deadly gan- 
grene, and being imperfectly waited on. Glory is for Gen- 
erals, Colonels, Majors, Captains, and Lieutenants. They 
have all the glory, and when the poor private wins battles by 
dint of sweat, hard marches, camp and picket duty, fasting 



190 ATLANTA. 

and broken bones, the officers get the glory. The private's 
pay was eleven dollars per month, if he got it ; the General's 
pay was three hundred dollars per month, and he always got 
his. I am not complaining. These things happened sixteen 
to twenty years ago. Men who never fired a gun, nor killed 
a Yankee during the whole war, are to-day the heroes of the 
war. 'Now, I tell you what I think about it : I think that 
those of us who fought as private soldiers, fought as much 
for glory as the General did, and those of us who stuck it 
out to the last, deserve more praise than the, General who re- 
signed because some other General was placed in command 
over him. A General could resign. That was honorable. A 
private could not resign, nor choose his branch of service, 
and if he deserted, it was death. 

TUB SCOUT AND DEATH OF A YAXKEE LIEUTENANT. 

General Hood had sent off all his cavalry, and a detail was 
made each day of so many men for a scout, to find out all 
we could about the movements of the Yankees. Colonel 
George Porter, of the Sixth Tennessee, was in command of 
the detail. We passed through Atlanta, and went down the 
railroad for several miles, and then made a flank movement 
toward where we expected to come in contact with the Yan- 
kees. When we came to a skirt of woods, we were deployed 
as skirmishers. Colonel Porter ordered us to re-prime our 
guns and to advance at twenty-five paces apart, being de- 
ployed as skirmishers, and to keep under cover as much as 
possible. He need not have told us this, because we had not 
learned war for nothing. We would run from one tree to 
another, and then make a careful reconnoiter before proceed- 
ing to another. We had begun to get a little careless, when 
bang! bang! bang! It seemed that we had got into a Yan- 
kee ambush. The firing seemed to be from all sides, and 
was rattling among the leaves and bushes. It appeared as if 
some supernatural, infernal battle was going on, and the air 
was full of smoke. We had not seen the Yankees. I ran to 



ATLANTA. 191 

a tree to ray right, and just as I got to it, I saw my comrade 
sink to the ground, clutching at the air as he fell dead. I 
kept trying to see the Yankees, so that I might shoot. I had 
been looking a hundred yards ahead, when happening to 
look not more than ten paces from me, I saw a big six-foot 
Yankee, with a black feather in his hat, aiming deliberately 
at me. I dropped to the ground, and at the same moment 
heard the report, and my hat was knocked off in the bushes. 
I remained perfectly still, and in a few minutes I saw a 3'oung 
Yankee Lieutenant peering through the bushes. I would 
rather not have killed him, but I was afraid to fire and afraid 
to run, and yet I did not wish to kill him. He was as pretty 
as a woman, and somehow I thought I had met him before. 
Our eyes met. He stood like a statue. He gazed at me with 
a kind of scared expression. I still did not want to kill him, 
and am sorry to-day that I did, for I believe I could have 
captured him, but I fired, and saw the blood spurt all over 
his' face. He was the prettiest youth I ever saw. When I 
fired, the Yankees broke and run, and J went up to the boy I 
had killed, and the blood was gushing out of his mouth. I 
. was sorry. 

ATLANTA FORSAKEN. 

One morning about the break of day our artillery opened 
along our breastworks, scaring us almost to death, for it was 
the first guns that had been fired for more than a month. 
We sprang to our feet and grabbed our muskets, and ran out 
and asked some one what did that mean. We were informed 
that they were "feeling" for the Yankees. The comment 
that was made by the private soldier was simply two words, 
and those two words were " O, shucks." The Yankees had 
gone — no one knew whither — and our batteries were shelling 
the woods, feeling for them. " O, shucks." 

"Hello," says Hood, " Whar in the Dickens and Tom 
Walker are them Yanks, hey ? Feel for them with long- 
range ' feelers.' " A boom, boom. " Can anybody tell me 
whar them Yanks are ? Send out a few more ' feelers.' The 



192 ATLANTA. 

feelers in the shape of cannon balls will bring them to taw." 
Boom, boom, boom. 

" For the want of a nail, the shoe 'was lost, 
For the want of a shoe the horse was lost. 
For the want of a horse the General was lost. 
For the want of a General the battle was lost." 

Forrest's Cavalry had been sent off somewhere. Wheeler's 
Cavalry had been sent away yonder in the rear of the enemy 
to tear up the railroad and cut of their supplies, etc., and we 
had to find out the movements of the enemy by " feeling for 
them" by shelling the vacant woods. The Yankees were at 
that time twenty-five miles in our rear, "a hundred thousand 
strong," at a place called Jonesboro. I do not know how it 
was found out that they were at Jonesboro, but anyhow, the 
news had come, and Cheatham's corps had to go and see 
about it. * 

Stewart's corps must hold Atlanta, and Stephen D. Lee's 
corps must be stretched at proper distance, so that the word 
could be passed backward and forward as to how they were 
getting along. As yet, it is impossible to tell of the move- 
ments of the enemy, because our cannon balls had not come 
back and reported any movements to us. We had always 
heard that cannon balls were blind, and we did not suppose 
they could see to find their way back. Well, our corps made 
a forced march for a day and a night, and passed the word 
back that we had seen some signs of the Yankees being in 
that vicinity, and thought, perhaps, a small portion — about a 
hundred thousand — were nigh about there somewhere. Says 
he, "It's a strange thing you don't know; send out your 
feelers." We sent out a few^ feelers, and they report back 
very promptly that the Yankees are here sure enough, or 
that is what our feelers say. Pass the word up the line. The 
word is passed from mouth to mouth of Lee's skirmish line 
twenty-five miles back to Atlanta. Well, if that be the case, 
we will set fire to all of our army stores, spike all our cannon, 
and play " smash " generally, and forsake Atlanta. 



ATLANTA. 193 

In the meantime, just hold on where 3'ou are till Stew- 
art gets through his job of blowing up arsenals, burning up 
the army stores, and spiking the cannon, and we will send 
our negro boy Caesar down to the horse lot to see if he can't 
catch old Nance, but she is such a fool with that young suck- 
ling colt of hers, that it takes him almost all day to catch 
her, and if the draw-bars happen to be down, she'll get in 
the clover patch, and I don't think he will catch her to-day. 
But if he don't catch her, I'll ride Balaam anyhow. He's 
got a mighty sore back, and needs a shoe put on his left hind 
foot, and he cuts his ankle with a broken shoe on his fore 
foot, and has not been fed to-day. How^ever, I will be along 
by-and-by. Stewart, do you think you will be able to get 
through with your job of blowing up by day after to-morrow, 
or by Saturday at 12 o'clock? Lee, pass the word down to 
Cheatham, and ask him what he thinks the Yankees are 
doing. Now, Kinlock, get my duster and umbrella, and 
bring out Balaam. 

Now, reader, that was the impression made on the private's 
mind at that time. 



194 JONESBORO. 



CHAP. XIV.— JONESBORO. 



THE BATTLE OF JONESBORO. 

Stewart's corps was at Atlanta, Lee's corps was between 
Atlanta and Jonesboro, and Cheatham's corps, then number- 
ing not more than five thousand men — because the woods 
and roads were full of straggling soldiers, who were not in 
the fight — was face to face with the whole Yankee army, and 
he was compelled to flee, fight, or surrender. This was the 
position and condition of the grand. Army of Tennessee on 
this memorable occasion. 

If I am not mistaken. General Cleburne was commanding 
Cheatham's corps at that time. W e expected to be ordered 
into action every moment, and kept see-sawing backward 
and forward, until I did not know which way the Yankees 
were, or which way were the Rebels. We would form line 
of battle, charge bayonets, and would raise a whoop and yell, 
expecting to be dashed right against the Yankee lines, and 
then the order would be given to retreat. Then we would 
immediately re-form and be ordered to charge again a mile 
oft' at another place. Then we would niar^h and counter- 
march backward and forward over the same ground, passing 
through Jonesboro away over the hill, and then back through 
the town, first four forward and back; your right hand to 
your left hand lady, swing half round and balance all. This 
sort of a movement is called a " feint." A feint is what is 
called in poker a "bluft," or what is called in a bully a 
" brag." A feint means anything but a fight. If a lady 
faints she is either scared or in love, and wants to fall in her 
lover's arms. If an army makes a feint movement, it is try- 
ing to hide some other movement. 

" Hello, Lee, what does Cleburne say the Yankees are 
doing at Jonesboro ?" 



JONESBORO. 195 

" They are fanning themselves." 

" Well, keep up that feint movement until all the boys 
faint from sheer exhaustion." 

" Hello, Stewart, do you think you will be able to burn up 
those ten locomotives, and destroy those hundred car loads 
of provisions by day after to-morrow ?" 

" Lee, ask C'eburue if he feels feiuty ? Ask him how a fel- 
low feels when he feints?" 

Cleburne says : " I have feinted, feinted, and feinted, until 
I can't feint any longer." 

""Well," says Hood, "If you can't feint any longer, you 
had better flee, fight, or faint; Balaam gets along mighty 
slow, but I'll be thar after awhile." 

At 1 o'clock we were ordered to the attack. We had to 
pass through an osage orange hedge that was worse than the 
enemy's tire. Their breastworks were before us. We yelled, 
and charged, and hurrahed, and said booh ! booh ! we're 
coming, coming, look out, don't you see us coming? Why 
don't you let us hear the cannon's opening roar. Why don't 
3^ou rattle a few old muskets over there at us? Booh ! booh ! 
we are coming. Tag. We have done got to your breast- 
works. !N"ow, we tagged first, why don't you tag back ? A 
Yankee seems to be lying on the other side of the breast- 
works, sunning himself, and raising himself on his elbow, 
says, " Fool who with your fatty bread? W-e are too o-l-d a- 
birds to be caught with that kind of chafiT. We don't want 
any of that kind of pie. What you got there wouldn't make 
a mouthful. Bring on your pudding and pound-cake, and 
then we will talk to ye." 

General Granberry, who, poor fellow, was killed in the 
butchery at Franklin afterwards, goes up to the breastworks, 
and says, " Look here, Yank, we're fighting, sure enough." 

Meynheer Dutchman comes out, and says, "Ish dot so? 
Vel I ish peen von leetle pit hungry dish morning, und I 
yust gobble you up for mein lunch pefore tinner dime. Dot 
ish der kind of mans vot I bees !" 

Now, reader, that is a fine description of this memorable 



196 JONESBORO. 

battle. That's it — no more, no less. I was in it all, and saw 
General Granberry captured. We did our level best to get 
up a fight, but it was no go, any way we could fix it up. 
I mean no disrespect to General Hood. He was a noble, 
brave, and good man, and we loved him for his many vir- 
tues and goodness of heart. I do not propose to criticize his 
generalship or ability as a commander. I only write of the 
impression and sentiment that were made upon the private's 
mind at the time, and as I remember them now\ But At- 
lanta had fallen into the hands of the Yankees, and they 
were satisfied for the time. 

DEATH OF LIEUTENANT JOHN WHITTAKER. 

At this place we built small breastworks, but for what pur- 
pose I never knew. The Yankees seemed determined not to 
tight, no way we could fix it. Every now and then the}- 
would send over a "feeler," to see liow we were getting 
along. Sometimes these " feelers " would do some damage. I 
remember one morning we were away over a hill, and every 
now and then here would come one of those lazy-looking 
"feelers," just bouncing along as if he were in no hurry, 
called in military " ricochet." They were very easy to dodge, 
^ if you could see them in time. Well, one morning, as before 
remarked, Lieutenant John Whittaker, then in command of 
Company H, and myself were sitting down eating breakfast 
out of the same tin plate. We were sopping gravy out with 
some cold corn bread, when Captain W. C. Flournoy, of the 
Martin Guards, hallooed out, " Look out, Sam ; look ! look !" 
I just turned my head, and in turning, the cannon ball 
knocked my hat oft\ and striking Lieutenant Whittaker full 
in the side of the head, carried away the whole of the skull 
part, leaving only the face. His brains fell in the plate from 
which we were sopping, and his head fell in my lap, deluging 
my face and clothes with his blood. Poor fellow, he never 
knew what hurt him. His spirit went to its God that morn- 
ing. Green Kieves carried the poor boy off" on his shoulder, 



JONESBORO. ' 197 

and, after wrapping hira up in a blanket, buried him. His 
bones are at Jouesboro to-day. The cannon ball did not go 
twenty yards after accomplishing its work of death. Cap- 
tain Flournoy laughed at me, and said, " Sam, that came 
very near getting you. One tenth of an inch more would / 
have cooked your goose." I saw another man try to stop 
one of those balls that was just rolling along on the ground. 
He put his foot out to stop the ball, but the ball did not stop, 
but, instead, carried the man's leg off with it. He no doubt 
to-day walks on a cork-leg, and is tax collector of the county 
in which he lives. I saw a thoughtless boy trying to catch 
one in his hands as it bounced along. He caught it, but the 
next moment his spirit had gone to meet its God. But, poor 
John, we all loved him. He died for his country. His soul 
is with his God. He gave his all for the country he loved, 
and may he rest in peace under the shade of the tree where 
he is buried, and may the birds sing their sweetest songs, the 
flowers put forth their most beautiful blooms, while the gen- 
tle breezes play about the brave boy's grave. Green Rieves 
was the only person at the funeral; no tears of a loving 
mother or gentle sister were there. Green interred his body, 
and there it will remain till the resurrection. John Whit- 
taker deserves more than a passing notice. He was noble and 
brave, and when he was killed. Company H was without an 
officer then commanding. Every single officer had been 
killed, wounded, or captured. John served as a private sol- 
dier the first year of the war, and at the reorganization at 
Corinth, Mississippi, he, W. J. Whitthorne and myself all 
ran for Orderly Sergeant of Company H, and John was 
elected, and the first vacancy occurring after the death of 
Captain Webster, he was commissioned brevet Second Lieu- 
tenant. When the war broke out, John was clerking for 
John L. & T. 8. Brandon, in Columbia. He had been in 
every march, skirmish, and battle that had been fought dur- 
ing the war. Along the dusty road, on the march, in the 
bivouac, and on the battle-field, he was the s^me noble, gen- 
erous boy ; always kind, ever gentle, a smile ever lighting up 



198 JONESBORO. 

his countenance. He was one of the most even tempered 
men I ever knew. I never knew him to speak an unkind 
word to anyone, or use a profane or vulgar word in my life. 

One of those ricochet cannon balls struck my old friend, 
N. B. Shepard. Shep was one of the bravest and best sol- 
diers who ever shouldered a musket. It is true, he was but 
a private soldier, but he was the best friend I had during the 
whole war. In intellect he was far ahead of most of the 
Generals, and would have honored and adorned the name of 
General in the C. S. A. He was ever brave and true. He 
followed our cause to the end, yet all the time an invalid. 
To-day he is languishing on a bed of pain and sickness, 
caused by that ball at Jonesboro. The ball struck him on 
his knapsack, knocking him twenty feet, and breaking one or 
two ribs and dislocating his shoulder. He was one of God's 
noblemen, indeed — none braver, none more generous. God 
alone controls our destinies, and surely He who watched over 
us and took care of us in those dark and bloody days, will 
not forsake us now. God alone fits and prepares for us the 
things that are in store for us. There is none so wise as to 
foresee the future or foretell the end. God sometimes seems 
afar off, but He will never leave or forsake anyone who puts 
his trust in Him. The day will come when the good as well 
as evil will all meet on one broad platform, to be rewarded 
for the deeds done in the body, when time shall end, with 
the gates of eternity closed, and the key fastened to the gir- 
dle of God forever. Pardon me, reader, I have wandered. 
But when m}'^ mind reverts to those scenes and times, I seem 
to live in another age and time, and I sometime think that 
"after us comes the end of the universe." 

I am not trjnng to moralize, I am only trying to write a 
few scenes and incidents that came under the observation of 
a poor old Rebel web-foot private soldier in those stormy days 
and times. Histories tell the great facts, while I only tell of 
the minor incidents. 

But on this day of which I now write, we can see in plain 
view more than a thousand Yankee battle-flags waving on 



JONESBORO. 199 

top the red earthworks, not more than four hundred 3^ards 
off. Every private soldier there knew that General Hood's 
army was scattered all the way from Jonesboro to Atlanta, a 
distance of twenty-five miles, without any order, discipline, 
or spirit to do anything. We could hear General Stewart, 
away back yonder in Atlanta, still blowing up arsenals, and 
smashing things generally, while Stephen D. Lee w^as some- 
where between Lovejoy Station and Macon, scattering. And 
here was but a demoralized remnant of Cheatham's corps 
facing the whole Yankee arniy. I have ever thought that 
Sherman was a poor General, not to have captured Hood and 
his whole army at that time. But it matters not what I 
thought, as I am not trying to tell the ifs and ands, but only 
of what t saw. In a word, w^e had everything against us. 
The soldiers distrusted everything. They were broken down 
with their long days' hard marching — were almost dead with 
hunger and fatigue. Everyone was taking his own course, 
and wishing and praying to be captured. Hard and sense- 
less marching, with little sleep, half rations, and lice, had 
made their lives a misery. Each one prayed that all this 
foolishness might end one way or the other. It was too much 
for human endurance. Every private soldier knew that such 
things as this could not last. They were willing to ring 
down the curtain, put out the foot-lights and go home. There 
was no hope in the future for them. 

THEN COMES THE FARCE. 

From this time forward until the close of the war, every- 
thing was a farce as to generalship. The tragedy had been 
played, the glory of war had departed. We all loved Hood ; 
he was such a clever fellow, and a good man. 

Well, Yank, why don't you come on and take us? We 
are ready to play quits now. We have not anything to let 
you have, you know ; but you can parole us, you know ; and 
we'll go home and be good boys, you know — good Union 
bo3^s, you know; and we'll be sorry for the war* you know; 
and we wouldn't have the negroes in any way, shape, form, or 



200 JONESBORO. 

fashion, you know; and the American continent has no 
north, no south, no east, no west — boohoo, boohoo, boohoo. 

Tut, tut, Johnny; all that sounds tolerable nice, but then 
you might want some favor from Uncle Sam, and the teat is 
too full of milk at the present time for us to turn loose. It's 
a sugar teat, Johnny, and just begins to taste sweet; and, be- 
sides, Johnny, once or twice you have put us to a little 
trouble; we haven't forgot that; and we've got you down 
now — our foot is on your neck, and you must feel our boot 
heel. We want to stamp you a little — " that's what's the 
matter with Hannah." And, Johnny, you've fought us hard. 
You are a brave boy ; you are proud and aristocratic, John- 
ny, and we are going to crush your cursed pride and spirit. 
And now, Johnny, come here ; I've something to whisper in 
your ear. Hold your ear closedown here, so that no one can 
hear: "We want big fat offices when the war is over. 
Some of us want to be Presidents, some Governors, some go 
to Congress, and be big Ministers to ' Urup,' and all those 
kind of things, Johnny, you know. Just go back to your 
camp, Johnny, chasse round, put on a bold front, flourish 
your trumpets, blow your horns. And, Johnny, we don't 
want to be hard on you, and we'll tell you what we'll do. for 
you. Away back in your territory, between Columbia and 
E'ashville, is the most beautiful country, and the most fertile, 
and we have lots of rations up there, too. Now, you just go 
up there, Johnny, and stay until we want you. We ain't 
done with you yet, my boy — 0, no, Johnny. And, another 
thing, Johnny; you will find there between Mt. Pleasant and 
Columbia, the most beautiful country that the sun of heaven 
ever shone upon ; and half way between the two places is 
St. John's Church. Its tower is all covered over with a beau- 
tiful vine of ivy ; and, Johnny, you know that in olden times 
it was the custom to entwine a wreath of ivy around the 
brows of victorious Generals. We have no doubt that many 
of your brave Generals will express a wish, when they pass 
by, to be buried beneath the ivy vine that shades so gracefully 
and beautifully the wall of this grand old church. And, 



JONESBORO. 201 

Johnny, you will find a land of beauty and plenty, and when 
you get there, just put on as much style as you like; just 
pretend, for our sake, you know, that you are a bully boy 
with a glass eye, and that you are the victorious army that 
has returned to free an oppressed people. We will allow you 
this, Johnny, so that we will be the greater when we want 
you, Johnny. And now, Johnny, we did not want to tell you 
what we are going to say to you now, but will, so that you'll 
feel bad. Sherman wants to ' march to the sea, while the 
world looks on and wonders.' He wants to desolate the land 
and burn up your towns, to show what a Coward he is, and 
how dastardly, and one of our boys wants to write a piece of 
poetry about it. But, that ain't all, Johnny. You know 
that you fellows have got a great deal of cotton at Augusta, 
Savannah, Charleston, Mobile, and other places, and cotton 
is worth two dollars a pound in gold, and as Christmas is 
coming, we want to go down there for some of that cotton to 
make a Christmas gift to old Abe and old Clo, don't you see? 
0, no, Johnny, we don't want to end the war just yet awhile. 
The sugar is mighty sweet in the teat, and we want to suck a 
while longer. Why, sir, we want to rob and then burn every 
house in Georgia and South Carolina. We will get millions 
of dollars by robbery alone, don't you see?" 

PALMETTO. 

" Hark from the tomb that doleful sound, 
My ears attend the cry." 

General J. B. Hood established his headquarters at Pal- 
metto, Ga., and here is where we were visited by his Honor, 
the Honorable Jefierson Davis, President of the Confederate 
States of America, and the Eight Honorable Robert Toombs, 
Secretary of State under the said Davis. Now, kind reader, 
don't ask me to write history. I know nothing of history. 
See the histories for grand movements and military maneu- 
vers. I can only tell of what I saw and how I felt. I can 
remember now General Robert Toombs' and Hon. Jeff Davis' 
14 



202 JONESBORO. 

speeches. I remember how funny Toombs' speech was. He 
kept us all laughing, by teiring us how quick we were going 
to whip the Yankees, and how they would skedaddle back 
across the Ohio river like a dog with a tin oyster can tied to 
his tail. Captain Joe P. Lee and I Laughed until our sides 
hurt us. I can remember to-day how I felt. I felt that Davis 
and Toombs had come there to bring us glad tidings of great 
joy, and to proclaim to us that the ratification of a treaty ot 
peace had been declared between the Confederate States of 
America and the United States. I remember how good and 
happy I felt when these two leading statesmen told of when 
grim visaged war would smooth her wrinkled front, and 
when the dark clouds that had so long lowered o'er our own 
loved South would be in the deep bosom of the ocean buried. 
I do not know how others felt, but I can say never before or 
since did I feel so grand. (I came very near saying gloomy 
and peculiar). I felt that I and every other soldier who had 
stood the storms of battle for nearly four long years, were 
now about to be discharged from hard marches, and scant 
rations, and ragged clothes, and standing guard, etc. In 
fact, the black cloud of war had indeed drifted away, and 
the beautiful stars that gemmed the blue ether above, smil- 
ing, said, " Peace, peace, peace." I felt bully, I tell you. I 
remember what I thought — that the embleni of our cause 
was the Palmetto and the Texas Star, and the town of Pal- 
metto, were symbolical of our ultimate triumph, and that we 
had unconsciously, nay, I should say, prophetically, fallen 
upon Palmetto as the most appropriate place to declare peace 
between the two sections. I was sure Jeff Davis and Bob 
Toombs had come there for the purpose of receiving the ca- 
pitulation of and to make terms with our conquered foes. I 
knew that in every battle we had fought, except Missionary 
Ridge, we had whipped the Yankees, and I knew that we had 
no cavalry, and but little artillery, and only two corps of in- 
fantry at Missionary Ridge, and from the way Jeff and Bob 
talked, it was enough to make us old private soldiers feel 
that swelling of the heart we ne'er should feel again. I re- 



JONESBORO. 203 

member that other high dignitaries and big bugs, then the 
controlling spirits of the Government at Richmond, visited 
us, and most all of these high dignitaries shook hands with 
the boys. It was all hands round, swing the corner, and bal- 
ance your partner. I shook hands with Hon. Jeff Davis, 
and he said howdy, Captain ; I shook hands with Toombs, 
and he said howdy. Major ; and every big bug that I shook 
hands with put another star on my collar and chicken guts 
on my sleeve. My pen is inadequate to describe the ecstasy 
and patriotic feeling that permeated every vein and fiber of 
my animated being. It was Paradise regained. All the long 
struggles we had followed the Palmetto flag through victory 
and defeat, through storms and rains, and snows and tempest, 
along the dusty roads, and on the weary marches, we had been 
true to our country, our cause, and our people; and there 
was a conscious pride within us that when we would return 
to our homes, we would go back as conquerors, and that we 
would receive the plaudits of our people — well done, good 
and faithful servants; you have been true and faithful even 
to the end. 

JEFF DAVIS MAKES A SPEECH. 

" Sinner come view the ground 
Where you shall shortly lie." 

I remember that Hon. Jeff Davis visited the army at this 
place, and our regiment, the First Tennessee, serenaded him. 
After playing several airs, he came out of General Hood's 
miarquee, and spoke substantially as follows, as near as I can 
remember : 

" Soldiers of the First Tennessee Regiment. — I should 
have said Captains, for every man among you is tit to be a 
Captain. I have heard of your acts of bravery on every 
battle-field during the whole war, and ' Captains,' so far as 
my wishes are concerned, I to-day make every man of 3^ou a 
Captain, and I say honestly to-day, were I a private soldier, I 
would have no higher ambition on earth than to belong to 



204 JONESBORO. 

the First Tennessee Regiment. You have been loyal and 
brave; your ranks have never yet, in the whole history of 
the war, been broken, even though the army was routed ; 
yet, my brave soldiers, Tennesseeans all, you have ever re- 
mained in your places in the ranks of the regiment, ever 
subject to the command of your gallant Colonel Field in 
every battle, march, skirmish, in an advance or a retreat. 
There are on the books of the War Department at Richmond, 
the names of a quarter of a million deserters, yet, you, my 
brave soldiers. Captains all, have remained true and steadfast. 
I have heard that some have been dissatisfied with the re- 
moval of General Joe E. Johnston and the appointment of 
General Hood ; but, my brave and gallant heroes, I say, I 
have done what I thought best for your good. Soon we com- 
mence our march to Kentucky and Tennessee. Be of good 
cheer, for within a short while your faces will be turned 
homeward, and your feet will press Tennessee soil, and you 
will tread your native heath, amid the blue-grass regions and 
pastures green of your native homes. We will flank General 
Sherman out of Atlanta, tear up the railroad and cut oft' his 
supplies, and make Atlanta a perfect Moscow of defeat to 
the Federal army. Situated as he is in an enemy's country, 
with his communications all cut oft", and our army in the 
rear, he will be powerless, and being fully posted and cogni- 
zant of our position, and of the Federal army, this movement 
will be the ultima thule, the grand crowning stroke for our in- 
dependence, and the conclusion of the war." 

ARMISTICE ONLY IN NAME. 

About this time the Yankees sent us a flag of truce, ask- 
ing an armistice to move every citizen of Atlanta south of 
their lines. It was granted. They wanted to live in fine 
houses awhile, and then rob and burn them, and issued or- 
ders for all the citizens of Atlanta to immediately abandon 
the city. They wanted Atlanta for themselves, you see ? 

For weeks and months the roads were filled with loaded 



JONESBORO. 205 

wagons of old and decrepit people, who had been hunted and 
hounded from their homes with a relentless cruelty worse, 
yea, much worse — than ever blackened the pages of barbaric 
or savage history. I remember assisting in unloading our 
wagons that General Hood, poor fellow, had kindly sent in. 
to bring out the citizens of Atlanta to a little place called 
Rough-and-Ready, about half way between Palmetto and 
Atlanta. Every day I would look on at the sufiering of deli- 
cate ladies, old men, and mothers with little children clinging 
to them, and crying, " O, mamma, mamma," and old women, 
and tottering- old men, whose gray hairs should have pro- 
tected them from the savage acts of Yankee hate and Puritan 
barbarity ; and I wondered how on earth our Generals, in- 
cluding those who had resigned — that is where the shoe 
pinches — could quietly look on at this dark, black, and damn- 
ing insult to our people, and not use at least one eflbrt to res- 
cue them from such terrible and unmitigated cruelty, barbar- 
ity, and outrage. General Hood remonstrated with Sherman 
against the insult, stating that it " Transcended in studied 
and ingenious cruelty, all acts ever before brought to my at- 
tention in the dark history of war." 

In the greatest crisis of the war, Hardee, Kirby Smith, 
Breckenridge, and many Brigadiers, resigned, thus throwing 
all the responsibility upon poor Hood.* 

I desire to state that they left the army on account of rank. 
O, this thing of rank ! 

Many other Generals resigned, and left us privates in the 
lurch. But the gallant Cheatham, Cleburne, Granberry, 
Gist, Strahl, Adams, John C. Brown, William B. Bate, 
Stewart, Lowery, and others, stuck to us to the last. 

The sinews of war were strained to their utmost tension. 

A SCOUT. 

At this place I was detailed as a regular scout, which posi- 

*In the Southern army the question was, who ranked ? Not who was the 
best General, or Colonel, or Captain — but "who ranked?" The article of 
rank finally got down to Corporals ; and rank finally bursted the Govern- 
ment. 



206 JONESBORO. 

tion I continued to hold during our stay at Palmetto. It was 
a good thing. It beat camp guard all hollow. I had an- 
swered "hear" at roll-call ten thousand times in these nearly 
four years. But I had sorter got used to the darn thing, 

Now, reader, I will give you a few chapters on the kind of 
fun I had for awhile. Our instructions were simply to try 
and find out all we could about the Yankees, and report all 
movements. 

One dark, rainy evening, while out as a scout, and, after 
traveling all day, I was returning from the Yankee outposts 
at Atlanta, and had captured a Yankee prisoner, who I then 
had under my charge, and whom I afterwards carried and 
delivered to General Hood. He was a considerable muggins, 
and a great coward, in fact, a Yankee deserter. I soon found 
out that there was no harm in him, as he was tired of war 
anyhow, and was anxious to go to prison. We went into an 
old log cabin near the road until the rain would be over. I 
was standing in the cabin door looking at the rain drops fall 
off the house and make little bubbles in the drip, and listen- 
ing to the pattering on the clapboard roof, when happening 
to look up, not fifty yards ofij I discovered a reginjent of 
Yankee cavalry approaching. I knew it would be utterly 
impossible for me to get away unseen, and I did not know 
what to do. The Yankee prisoner was scared almost to death. 
I said, "Look, look!" I turned in the room, and found the 
planks of the floor were loose. I raised two of them, and 
Yank and I slipped through. I replaced the planks, and 
could peep out beneath the sill of the house, and see the 
legs of the horses. They passed on and did not come to the 
old house. They were at least a half hour in passing. At 
last the main regiment had all passed, and I saw the rear 
guard about to pass, when I heard the Captain say, " Go 
and look in that old house." Three fellows detached them- 
selves from the command and came dashing up to the old 
house. I thought, " Gone up, sure," as I was afraid the 
Yankee prisoner would make his presence known. When 
the three men came up, they purshed open the door and 



JONESBORO. 207 

looked around, and one fellow said, " Booh !" They then 
rode off. But that " Booh !" I was sure I was caught, but 
I was not. 

"WHAT IS THIS REBEL DOING HERE?" 

I would go up to the Yankee outpost, and if some popin- 
jay of a tacky officer didn't come along, we would have a 
good time. One morning I was sitting down to eat a good 
breakfast with the Yankee outpost. They w^ere cavalry, and 
they were mighty clever and pleasant fellows. I looked 
down the road toward Atlanta, and not fifty yards from the 
outpost, I saw a body of infantry approaching. I don't know 
why I didn't run. I ought to have done so, but I didn't. I 
staid there until this body of infantry came up. They had 
come to relieve the cavalry. It was a detail of negro sol- 
diers, headed by the meanest looking white man as their 
Captain, I ever saw. 

In very abrupt words he told the cavalry that he had come 
to take their place, and they were ordered to report back to 
their command. Happening to catch sight of me, he asked, 
" What is this Rebel doing here ?" One of the men spoke up 
and tried to say something in my favor, but the more he said 
the more the Captain of the blacks would get mad. He 
started toward me two or three times. He was starting, I 
could see by the flush of his face, to take hold of me, any- 
how. The cavalryman tried to protest, and said a few cuss 
words. The Captain of the blacks looks back very mad at 
the cavalry. Here was my opportunity, now or never. Uncle 
negro looked on, not seeming to care for the cavalry. Cap- 
tain, or for me. I took up my gun very gently and cocked 
it. I had the gentleman. I had made up my mind if he ad- 
vanced one step further, that he was a dead man. "When he 
turned to look again, it was a look of surprise. His face 
was as red as a scalded beet, but in a moment was as white 
as a sheet. He was afraid to turn his head to give a com- 
mand. The cavalry motioned their hands at me, as much as 
to say, " Run, Johnny, run." The Captain of the blacks fell 



208 JONESBORO. 

upon his face, and I broke and ran like a quarter-horse. I 
never saw or heard any more of the Captain of the blacks or 
his guard afterward. 

"LOOK OUT, BOYS." 

One night, five of us scouts, I thought all strangers to me, 
put up at an old gentleman's house. I took him for a Cath- 
olic priest. His head was shaved and he had on a loose 
gown like a lady's dress, and a large cord and tassel tied 
around his waist, from which dangled a large bunch of keys. 
He treated us very kindly and hospitably, so far as words and 
politeness went, but we had to eat our own rations and sleep 
on our own blankets. 

At bedtime, he invited us to sleep in a shed in front of his 
double log cabin. We all went in, lay down, and slept. A 
little while before day, the old priest came in and woke us 
up, and said he thought he saw in the moonlight a detach- 
ment of cavalry coming down the road from toward the 
Rebel lines. One of our party jumped up and said there was 
a company of cavalry coming that way, and then all four broke 
toward the old priest's room. I jumped up, put on one boot, 
and holding the other in my hand, I stepped out in the yard, 
with my hat and coat off — both being left in the room. A 
Yankee Captain stepped up to me and said, "Are you No. 
200?" I answered very huskily, "No, sir, I am not." He 
then went on in the house, and on looking at the fence, I 
saw there was at least two hundred Yankee cavalry right at 
me. I did not know what to do. My hat, coat, gun, car- 
tridge-box, and knapsack were all in the room. I was afraid 
to stay there, and I was afraid to run, and I was afraid to 
surrender, and I was afraid to give the alarm. I soon saw 
almost everyone of the Yankees dismount, and then I deter- 
mined to give the alarm and run. I hallooed out as loud as 
I could, " Look out, boys," and broke and run. I had to 
jump over a garden picket fence, and as I lit on the ofeher 
side, bang I bang! bang I was fi.red right after me. They 



JONESBORO. 209 

stayed there but a short time, and I went back and gOt my 
gun and other accoutrements. 

AM CAPTURED. 

When I left the old priest's house, it was then good day — 
nearly sun up — and I had started back toward our lines, and 
had walked on about half a mile, not thinking of danger, 
when four Yankees jumped out in the middle of the road 
and said, " Halt, there," " O, yes, we've got you at last." I 
was in for it. What could I do? Their guns were cocked 
and leveled at me, and if I started to run, I would be shot, so 
I surrendered. In a very short time the regiment of Yankee 
cavalry came up, and the first greeting I had, was, " Hello, 
you ain't No. 200, are you?" I was taken prisoner. They, 
I thought, seemed to be very gleeful about it, and I had to 
march right back by the old priest's house, and they carried 
me to the headquarters of General Stephen Williams. As 
soon as he saw me, he said, " Who have you there — a pris- 
oner, or a deserter?'' They said a prisoner. From what 
command? No one answered. Finally he asked me what 
command I belonged to. I told him the Confederate States 
army? Then, said he, "What is your name?" Said I, 
" General, if that would be any information, I would have no 
hesitancy in giving it. But I claim your protection as a 
prisoner of war. I am a private soldier in the Confederate 
States army, and I don't feel authorized to answer any ques- 
tion you may ask." He looked at me with a kind of quizical 
look, and said, " That is the way with you Rebels. I have 
never yet seen one of you, but thought what little informa- 
tion he might possess to be of value to the Union forces." 
Then one of the men spoke up and said, " I think he is a 
spy or a scout, and does not belong to the regular army." 
He then gave me a close look, and said, " Ah, ah, a guerilla," 
and ordered me to be taken to the Provost Marshal's office. 
They carried me to a large, fine house, up-stairs, and I was 
politely requested to take a seat. I sat there some moments. 



210 JONESBORO. 

when a dandy-looking clerk of a fellow came up with a book 
in his hand, and said, " The name." I appeared not to un- 
derstand, and he said, " The name." I still looked at hira, 
and he said, "The name." I did not know what he "meant 
by " The name." Finally, he closed the book with a slam 
and started off, and said I, " Did you want to find out 
ray name?" He said, "I asked you three times." I 
said, "When? If you ever asked me my name, I have 
never heard it." But he was too mad to listen to anything 
else. I was carried to another room in the same building, 
and locked up. I remained there until about dark, when a 
man brought me a tolerably good supper, and then left me 
alone to my own meditations. I - ould hear the sentinels at 
all times of the night calling out the hours. I did not sleep 
a wink, nor even lay down. I had made up my mind to es- 
cape, if there was any possible chance. About 3 o'clock 
everything got perfectly still. I went to the window, and it 
had a heavy bolt across it, and I could not open it. I 
thought I would try the door, but I knew that a guard was 
stationed in the hall, for I could see a dim light glimmer 
through the key-hole. I took my knife and unscrewed the 
catch in which the lock was fastened, and soon found out 
that I could open the door; but then there was the guard, 
standing at the main entrance down stairs. I peeped down, 
and he was quietly walking to and fro on his beat, every time 
looking to the hall. I made up my mind by his measured 
tread as to how often he would pass the door, and one time, 
after he had just passed, I came out in the hall, and started 
to run down the steps. About midway down the steps, one 
of them cracked very loud, but I ran on down in the lower 
hall and ran into a room, the door of which was open. Tihe 
sentinel came back to the entrance of the hall, and listened 
a few minutes, and then moved on again. T went to the 
window and raised the sash, but the blind was fastened with 
a kind of patent catch. I gave one or two hard pushes, and 
felt it move. After that I made one big lunge, and it flew 
wide open, but it made a noise that woke up every sentinel. 



JONESBORO. 211 

I jumped out in the yard, and gained the street, and, on 
looking back, 1 heard the alarm given, and lights began to 
glimmer everywhere, but, seeing no one directly after me, I 
made tracks toward Peachtree creek, and went on until I 
came to the old battle-field of July 22nd, and made my way 
back to our lines. 



212 ADVANCE INTO TENNESSEE. 



CHAP. XY.— ADVANCE INTO TENNESSEE. 



GENERAL HOOD MAKES A FLANK MOVEMENT. 

After remaiuiiig a good long time at Jouesboro, the news 
came that we were going to flank Atlanta. We flanked it. 
A flank means "a go around." 

Yank says, " What you doing, Johnny ?" 

Johnny says, " We are flanking." 

Yank says, " Bully for you !" 

We passed around Atlanta, crossed the Chattahoochee, and 
traveled back over the same route on which we had made the 
arduous campaign under Joe Johnston. It took us four 
months in the first instance, and but little longer than as 
many days in the second, to get back to Dalton, our starting 
point. On our way up there, the Yankee cavalry followed 
us to see how we were getting along with the flanking busi- 
ness. We had pontoons made for the purpose of crossing 
streams. When we would get to a stream, the pontoons 
would be thrown across, and Hood's army w^ould cross. 
Yank would halloo over and say, " Well, Johnny, have you 
got everything across?" "Yes," would be the answer. 
" Well, we want these old pontoons, as you will not need 
them again." And they would take them. 

We passed all those glorious battle-fields, that have been 
made classic in histor}^ frequently coming across the skull of 
some poor fellow sitting on top of a stump, grinning a ghastly 
smile ; also the bones of horses along the road, and fences 
burned and destroyed, and occasionally the charred remains 
of a once fine dwelling house. Outside of these occasional 
reminders we could see no evidence of the desolation of the 
track of an invading array. The country looked like it did 



ADVANCE INTO TENNESSEE. 213 

at first. Citizens came out, and seemed glad to see us, and 
would divide their onions, and garlic, and leek with us. The 
soldiers were in good spirits, but it was the spirit of inno- 
cence and peace, not war and victory. 

Where the railroads would cross a river, a block-house had 
been erected, and the bridge was guarded by a company of 
Federals. But we always flanked these little afliairs. We 
wanted bigger and better meat. 

WE CAPTURE DALTON. 

When we arrived at Dalton, we had a desire to see how 
the old place looked; not that we cared anything about it, 
but we just wanted to take a last farewell look at the old place. 
We saw the United States flag flying from the ramparts, and 
thought that Yank would probably be asleep or catching 
lice, or may be engaged in a game of seven-up. So we sent 
forward a physician with some white bandages tied to the 
end of a long pole. He walked up and says, " Hello, boys !" 
"What is it, boss?" "Well, boys, we've come for you." 
" Hyali, ha; liyah, ha; hyah, ha; a hee, he, he, he; if it 
ain't old master, sho." The place was guarded by negro 
troops. We marched the black rascals out. They were 
mighty glad to see us, and we were kindly disposed to them. 
We said, " Now, boys, we don't want the Yankees to get mad 
at you, and to blame you ; so, just let's get out here on the 
railroad track, and tear it up, and pile up the cross-ties, and 
then pile the iron on top of them, and we'll set the thing 
a-fire, and when the Yankees come back they will say, 
' What a bully fight them nagcrs did make.'" (A Yankee al- 
ways says "nager"). Reader, you should have seen how 
that old railroad did flop over, and how the darkies did sweat, 
and how the perfume did fill the atmosphere. 

But there were some Yankee soldiers in a block-house at 
Ringgold Gap, who thought they would act big. They said 
that^Sherman had told them not to come out of that block- 
house, any how. But General William B. Bate begun to 



214 ADVANCE INTO TENNESSEE. 

persuade the gentlemen, by sending a few four-pound parrot- 
"feelers." Ah! thoae feelers ! 

They perliiaded eloquently. They persuaded effectually — 
those feelers did. The Yanks soon surrendered. The old 
place looked natural like, only it seemed to have a sort of 
grave-yard loneliness about it. 

A MAN IN THE WELL. * 

On leaving Dalton, after a day's march, we had stopped 
for the night. Our guns were stacked, and I started off" with 
a comrade to get some wood to cook supper with. We were 
walking along, he a little in the rear, when he suddenly dis- 
appeared. I could not imagine what had become of him. I 
looked everywhere. The earth seemed to have opened and 
swallowed him. I called, aad called, but could get n6 an- 
swer. Presently I heard a groan that seemed to come out of 
the bowels of the earth ; but, as yet, I could not make out 
where he was. Going back to camp, I procured a light, and 
after whooping and hallooing for a long time, I heard an- 
other groan, this time much louder than before. The 
voice appeared to be overhead. There was no tree or house 
to be seen; and then again the voice seemed to answer from 
under the ground, in a hollow, sepulchral tone, but I could 
not tell where he was. But I was determined to Hnd him, so 
I kept on hallooing and he answering. I went to the place 
where the voice appeared to come out of the earth. I was 
walking along rather thoughtlessly and carelessly, when one 
inch more, and I would have disappeared also. Right before 
me I saw the long dry grass all bending toward a common 
center, and I knew that it was an old well, and that my com- 
rade had fallen in it. But how to get him out was the un- 
solved problem. I ran back to camp to get assistance, and 
everybody had a great curiosity to see '* the man in the well." 
They would get chunks of fire and shake over the well, and, 
peeping down, would say, " Well, he's in there," and go off", 
and others would come and talk about his " being in there." 



ADVANCE INTO TENNESSEE. 215 

The poor fellow staid in that well all night. The next morn- 
ing we got a long rope from a battery and let it down in the 
well, and soon had him on terra jirma. He was worse scared 
than hurt. 

TUSCUMBIA. 

We arrived and remained at Tuscumbia several days, 
awaiting the laying of the pontoons across Tennessee river at 
Florence, Ala., and then we all crossed over. While at 
Tuscumbia, John Branch and I saw a nice sweet potato 
patch, that looked very tempting to a hungry Rebel. We 
looked all around, and thought that the coast was clear. We 
jumped over the fence, and commenced grabbling for the 
sweet potatoes. I had got my haversack full, and had started 
oft',' when we heard, " Halt, there." I looked around, and 
there was a soldier guard. We broke and run like quarter- 
horses, and the guard pulled down on us just as we jumped 
the fence. I don't think his gun was loaded though, because 
we did not hear the ball whistle. 

We marched from Decatur to Florence. Here the pontoon 
bridges were nicely and beautifully stretched across the river. 
We walked over this floating bridge, and soon found our- 
selves on the Tennesseee side of Tennessee river. 

In driving a great herd of cattle across the pontoon, the 
front one got stubborn, and the others, crowding up all in 
one bulk, broke the line that held the pontoon, and drowned 
many of the drove. We had beef for supper that night. 

EN ROUTE FOR COLUMBIA. 

" And nightly we pitch our moving tent 
A day's march nearer home." 
9 

How every pulse did beat and leap, and how every heart 
did throb with emotions of joy, which seemed nearly akin to 
heaven, when we received the glad intelligence of our on- 
ward march toward the land of promise, and of our loved 



216 ADVANCE INTO TENNESSEE. 

ones. The cold iN'ovember winds coming oft" the mountains 
of the northwest were blowing right in our faces, and nearly 
cutting us in two. 

We were inured to privations and hardships; had been 
upon every march, in every battle, in every skirmish, in every 
advance, in every retreat, in every victory, in every defeat. 
We had laid under the burning heat of a tropical sun ; had 
made the cold, frozen earth our bed, with no covering save 
the blue canopy of heaven ; had braved dangers, had breasted 
floods; had seen our comrades slain upon our right and our 
left hand; had heard guns that carried death in their mis- 
siles ; had heard the shouts of the charge ; had seen the 
enemy in full retreat and flying in every direction ; ' had heard 
the shrieks and groans of the wounded and dying; had seen 
the blood of our countrymen dyeing the earth and eurichiaig 
the soil; had been hungry when there was nothing to eat; 
had been in rags and tatters. We had marked the frozen 
earth with bloody and unshod feet; had been elated with 
victory and crushed by defeat; had seen and lelt the pleasure 
of the life of a soldier, and had drank the cup to its dregs. 
Yes, we had seen it all, and had shared in its hopes and its 
fears ; its love and its hate ; its good and its bad ; its virtue 
and its vice; its glories an'd its shame. We had followed 
the successes and reverses of the flag of the Lost Cause 
through all these years of blood and strife. 

I was simply one of hundreds of thousands in the same 
fix. The tale is the same that every soldier would tell, except 
Jim Whitler. Jim had dodged about, and had escaped being 
conscripted until " Hood's raid," he called it. Hood's army 
was taking up every able-bodied man and conscripting him 
into the army. Jim Whitler had got a position as overseer 
on a large plantation, and had about a hundred negroes under 
his surveillance. The army had been passing a given point, 
and Jim was sitting quietly on the fence looking at the sol- 
diers. The conscripting squad nabbed him. Jim tried to 
beg oflt', but all entreaty was in vain. He wanted to go by 
home and tell his wife and children good-bye, and to get his 



ADVANCE INTO TENNESSEE. 217 

clothes. It was no go. But, after awhile, Jim says, " Gen- 
tlemen, ay, Ganny, the law !" You see, Jim " knowed '' ihe 
law. He didn't know B from a bull's foot in the spelling- 
book. But he said, tlie law. I^ow, when anyone says any- 
thing about the "law," every one stops to listen. Jim says, 
" Ah, Ganny, the law " — (laying great stress upon the law) — 
" allows every man who has twenty negroes to stay at home. 
Ah, Ganny !" Those old soldiers had long, long ago, for- 
gotten about that old " law " of the long gone past; but Jim 
had treasured it up in his memory, lo I these many years, 
and he thought it would serve him now, as it had, no doubt, 
frequently done in the past. The conscript officer said, "Law 
or no law — you fall into line, take this gun and cartridge- 
box, and march r^ Jim's spirits sank; his hopes vanished 
into air. Jim was soon in line, and was tramping to the 
music of the march. He stayed with the company two days. 
The third day it was reported that the Yankees had taken 
position on the Murfreesboro pike. A regiment was sent to 
the attack. It was Jim's regiment. He advanced bravely 
into battle. The minnie balls began to whistle around his 
ears. The regiment was ordered to tire. He hadn't seen 
anything to shoot at, but he blazed away. He loaded and 
fired the second time, when they were ordered to retreat. He 
didn't see anything to run from, but the other soldiers began 
to run, and Jim run too. Jim had not learned the word 
" halt !" and just kept on running. He run, and he run, and 
he run, and he kept on running until he got home, when he 
jumped in his door and shouted, " Whoopee, Khoda ! Aye, 
Ganny, I've served four years in the Rebel army P' 
15 



218 BATTLES IN TENNESSEE. 



CHAP. XVI.— BATTLES IN TP]NNESSEE. 

COLUMBIA. 
"This is my nwn. iiiy native laiiil." 

Once more the Maury Grays are permitted to put their 
feet upon their native heath, and to revisit their homes and 
friends, after having followed their tattered, and torn, and 
battle-riddled flag, which they had borne aloft for four long 
years, on every march, and in every battle that had been 
fought by the array of Tennessee. We were a mere handful 
of devoted braves, who had stood by our colors when some- 
times it seemed that God himself had forsaken us. But, 
parents, here are your noble and brave sons; and, ladies, 
four years ago you gave us this flag, and we promised you 
" That we would come back with the flag as victors, or we 
would come not at all.'' We have been true to our promise 
and our trust. On every battle-field the flag that you en- 
trusted to our hands has been borne aloft by brave and heroic 
men, amid shot and shell, bloody battle, and deatb. We 
have never forsaken our colors. Are we worthy to be called 
the sons of old Maury county? Or have we fought in vain ? 
Have our efforts been appreciated, or have four years of our 
lives been wasted, while we were battling for constitutional 
government, the supremacy of our laws over centralization, 
and our own rights, as guranteed to us by the blood of our 
forefathers on the battle-fields of the Revolution? It is for 
you to make up your verdict. If our lives as soldiers have 
been a failure, we can but bow our heads on our bosoms, and 
says, "Surely, four years of our lives have been given for 
naught, and our efforts to please you have been in vain." 

Yet, the invader's foot is still on our soil, but there beats 
in our bosoms the blood of brave and patriotic men, and we 



BATTLES IN TENNESSEE. 219 

will eontinue to follow our old and war-worn and battle- 
riddled flag until it goes down forever. 

The Maury Grays, commanded by Captain A, M. Looney, 
left Columbia, four years ago, with 120 men. How many of 
those 120 original members are with the company to-day? 
Just twelve. Company H has twenty members, but some of 
this number had subsequently enlisted. But we twelve will 
stick to our colors till she goes down forever, and until five 
more of this number fall dead and bleeding on the battle- 
field. 

A FIASCO. 

When we arrived in sight of Columbia, we found the Yan- 
kees still in possession of the town, fortified and determined 
to resist our advance. We send forward a "feeler," and the 
"feeler" reports back very promptly, " Yes, the Yankees are 
there." Well, if that be the case, we'll just make a flank 
movement. We turn off the main turnpike at J. E. R. Car- 
penter's, and march through the cedars, and cross Duck river 
at Davis' ferry, on pontoon bridges, near Lowell's mill. We 
pass on, and cross Kutherford creek, near Buriek's mill, about 
3 o'clock in the afternoon. We had marched through fields 
in the heavy mud, and the men, weary and worn out, were 
just dragging themselves along, passing by the old Union 
Seminary, and then by Mr. Fred Thompson's, until we came 
to the Rally Hill turnpike — it being then nearly dark — we 
heard some skirmishing, but, exhausted as we were, we went 
into bivouac. The Yankees, it seems to me, might have cap- 
tured the whole of us. But that is a matter of history. But 
I desire to state that no blunder was made by either Generals 
Cheatham or Stewart, neither of whom ever failed to come 
to time. Jefl:' Davis is alone responsible for the blunder. 
About two hours after sun up the next morning we received 
the order to "Fall in, fall in, quick, make haste, hurrah, 
promptly, men ; each rank count two ; by the right flank, 
quick time, ruarch ; keep promptly closed up." Everything 
indicated an immediate attack. When we got to the turn- 



220 BATTLES IN TENNESSP^E. 

pike near Spring Hill, lo ! and behold! wonder of wonders! 
the whole Yankee army had passed during tlie night. The 
bird had flown. We make a quick and rapid march down 
the turnpike, finding Yankee guns and knapsacks, and now 
and then a broken down straggler, also two pieces of howitzer 
cannon, and at least twenty broken wagons along the road. 
Everything betokened a rout and a stamjtede of the Yankee 
army. Double-quick! Forrest is in the rear. Now for fun. 
All that we want to do now is to catch the blue-coated ras- 
cals, ha! ha! We all want to see the surrender, ha! ha! 
Double-quick! A rip, rip, rip; wheuf; pant, pant, pant. 
First one man drops out, and then another. The Yankees 
are routed and running, and Forrest has crossed Harpeth 
river in the rear of Franklin. Hurrah, men ! keep closed up ; 
we are going to capture Schofield. Forrest is in the rear; 
never mind the straggler and cannon. Kerflop we come 
against the breastworks at Franklin. 

FRANKLIN. 

"The death-angel gathers its' last harvest." 

Kind reader, right here my pen, and courage, and ability 
fail me. I shrink from butchery. Would to God I could 
tear the page from these memoirs and from my own memory. 
It is the blackest page in the history of the war of the Lost 
Cause. It was the bloodiest battle of modern times in any 
war. It was the finishing stroke to the independence of the 
Southern Confederacy. I was there. I saw it. My flesh 
trembles, and creeps, and crawls w^hen I think of it to-day. 
My heart almost ceases to beat at the horrid recollection. 
Would to God that I had never witnessed such a scene ! 

I cannot describe it. It beggars description. I will not 
attempt to describe it. I could not. The death-angel was 
there to gather its last harvest. It was the grand coronation 
of death. Would that I could turn the page. But I feel, 
though I did so, that page would still be there, teeming with 
its scenes of horror and blood. I can only tell of what I saw. 



BATTLES IN TENNESSEE. 221 

Our regiment was resting iu the gap of a range of hills in 
plain view of the city of Franklin. We could see the battle- 
flags of the enemy waving in the breeze. Our array had 
been depleted of its strength by a forced march from Spring 
Hill, and stragglers lined the road. Our artillery had not 
yet come up, and could not. be brought into action. Our 
cavalry was across Harpeth river, and our army was but in 
poor condition to make an assault. While resting on this 
hill-side, I saw a courier dash up to our commanding General, 
B. F. Cheatham, and the word, "Attention!" was given. I 
knew then that we would soon be in action. Forward, march. 
We passed over the hill and through a little skirt of woods. 

The enemy were fortified right across the Franklin pike, 
in the suburbs of the town. Kight here in these woods a 
detail of skirmishers was called for. Our regiment was de- 
tailed. We deployed as skirmishers, firing as we advanced 
on the left of the turnpike road. If I had not been a skir- 
misher on that day, I would not have been writing this to- 
day, in the year of our Lord 1882. 

It was four o'clock on that dark and dismal December day 
when the line of battle was formed, and those devoted heroes 
were ordered forward, to 

'* Strike for their altars and tlieir fires, 
For tlic green graves of their sires, 
For God and their native land." 

As they marched on down through an open field toward the 
rampart of blood and death, the Federal batteries began to 
open and mow down and gather into the garner of death, 
as brave, and good, and pure spirits as the world ever saw. 
The twilight of evening had begun to gather as a precursor 
ot the coming blackness of midnight darkness that was to 
envelop a scene so sickening and horrible that it is impossible 
for me to describe it. " Forward, men," is repeated all along 
the line. A sheet of fire was poured into our very faces, and 
for a moment we halted as if in despair, as the terrible ava- 
lanche of shot and shell laid low those brave and gallant 



222 BATTLKS IN TENNESSEE. 

heroes, whose bleeding wounds attested that the struggle 
would be desperate. Forward, men ! The air loaded with 
death-dealing missiles. Never on this earth did men light 
against such terrible odds. It seemed that the very elements 
of heaven and earth were in one mighty uproar. Forward, 
men! And the blood spurts in a perfect j6t from the dead 
and wounded. The earth is red with blood. It runs in 
streams, making little rivulets as it flows. Occasionally 
there was a little lull in the storm of l)attle, as the men were 
loading their guns, and for a few moments it seemed as if 
night tried to cover the scene with her mantle. The death- 
angel shrieks and laughs and old father Time is busy with 
his sickle, as he gathers in the last harvest of death, crying, 
More, more, more ! while his rapacious maw is glutted with 
the slain. 

But the skirmish line being deployed out, extending a lit- 
tle wider than the battle did — passing through a thicket of 
small locusts, where Brown, Orderly Sergeant of Company 
B, was killed — we advanced on toward the breast-works, on 
and on. I had made up my mind to die — felt glorious. We 
pressed forward until I heard the terrific roar of battle opeu 
on our right. Cleburne's division was charging their works. I 
passed on until I got to their works, walked up the ascent, 
and got over on their (the Yankees') side. But in fifty yards 
of where I was the scene was lit up by fires that seemed like 
hell itself. It appeared to be but one line of streaming fire. 
Our troops were upon one side of the breast-works, and the 
Federals on the other. I ran up on the line of works, where 
our men were engaged. Dead soldiers filled the entrench- 
ments. The firing was kept up until after midnight, and 
gradually died out. VV^e passed the night where we were. 
But when the morrow's sun began to light up the eastern 
sky with its rosy hues, and we looked over the battle-field, 
0, my God ! what did we see ! It was a grand holocaust of 
death. Death had held high carnival there that night. The 
dead were piled the one on the other all over the ground. I 
Dever was so horrified and appalled in my life. Horses, like 



BATTLES IN TENNESSEE. 223 

men, liad died game on the gOry breast-works. Gen. Adams' 
horse had his fore feet oa one side of the works and his hind 
feet on the other, dead. The General seems to have been 
canght so that he was held to the horse's back, sitting almost 
as if living, riddled, and mangled, and torn with balls. Gen. 
Cleburne's mare had her fore feet on top of the works, dead 
in that position. Gen. Cleburne's bod}^ was pierced with 
forty-nine bullets, through and through. Gen. Strahl's 
horse lay by the roadside and the General by his side, both 
dead, and all his stafi". Gen. Gist, a noble and brave cava- 
lier from South Carolina, was lying with his sword reaching 
across the breast-works- still grasped in his hand. He was 
lying there dead. Gen. Granberry, from Texas, and his 
horse were seen, horse and rider, right on top of the breast- 
works, dead. All dead! They sleep in the graveyard yon- 
der at Ashwood, almost in .-ight of my home, where I am 
writing to-day. They sleep the sleep of the brave. We 
love and cherish their memory. They sleep beneath thv ivy- 
mantled waUs of St. John's church, where they expressed a 
wish to be buried. The private soldier sleeps where he foil, 
piled in one mighty heap. Four thousand five hundred 
privates ! all lying side by side in death ! Thirteen Generals 
were killed and wounded. Four thousand five hundred men 
slain, all piled and heaped together at one place, I cannot 
tell the number of others killed and wounded. God alone 
knows that. We'll all find out on the morning of the final 
resurrection. 

Kind friends, I have attempted in my poor and feeble way 
to tell you of this (I can hardly call it) battle. It should be 
called by some other name. But like all other battles, it, 
too, has gone into history. I leave it with you. I do not 
know who was to blame. It lives in the memory of the poor 
old Rebel soldier who went through that trying and terrible 
ordeal. We shed a tear for the dead. They are buried and 
forgotten. We meet no more on earth. But up yonder, 
beyond the sunset and the night, away beyond the clouds 
and tempest, away beyond the stars that ever twinkle and 



N. 



224 BATTLES IN TENNESSEE. 

shine in the hhie vault above ns, away yonder by the great 
white throne, and l)y the river of life, where the Almighty 
and Eternal God sits, surrounded by the angels and arch- 
angels and the redeemed of earth, we will meet again and 
see those noble and brave spirits who gave up their lives for 
their country's cause that night at Franklih, Tennessee. A 
life given for one's country is never lost. It blooms jigaiu 
beyond the grave in a land of beauty and of love. Hanging 
around the throne of sapphire and gold, a rich garland awaits 
the coming of him who died for his country, and when the 
horologe of time has struck its last note upon his dying 
brow, Justice hands the record of life to Mercy, and Mercy 
pleads with Jesus, and God, for his sake, receives him in his 
eternal home beyond the skies at last and forever. 

NASHVILLE. 

A few more scenes, my dear friends, and we close these 
memoirs. We march toward the cit^^ of Nashville. We 
camp the first night at Brentwood. The next day we can 
see the line old building of solid granite, looming up on 
Capitol Hill — the Capitol of Tennessee. We can see the 
Stars and Stripes flying from the dome. Our pulse leaps 
with pride when we see the grand old architecture. We can 
hear the bugle call, and the playing of the bands of the dif- 
ferent regiments in the Federal lines. Now^ and then a shell 
is thrown into our midst from Fort Negley, but no attack or 
demonstrations on either side. We bivouac on the cold smd 
hard-frozen ground, and when we walk about, the echo of 
our footsteps sound like the eclio of a tombstone. The 
earth is crusted with snow, and the wind from the northwest 
is piercing our very bones. We can see our ragged soldiers, 
with sunken cheeks and famine-glisteniug eyes. Where 
were our generals? Alas! there were none. Not one single 
General out of Cheatham's division was left — not one. Gen- 
eral B. F. Cheatham himself was the only surviving General 
of his old division. Nearly all our Captains and Colonels 



BATTLES IN TENNESSEE. 225 

were gone. Compauies mingled with companies, regiments 
with regiments, and brigades with brigades. A few raw- 
boned horses stood shivering under the ice-covered trees, 
nibbling the short, scanty grass. Being in range of the Fed- 
eral guns from Fort Negley, we were not allowed to have 
fires at night, and our thin and ragged blankets were but 
poor protection against the cold, raw blasts of December 
weather — the coldest ever known. The cold stars seem to 
twinkle with unusual brilliancy, and the pale moon seems to 
be but one vast heap of frozen snow, which glimmers in the 
cold gray sky, and the air gets colder by its coming; our 
breath, forming in little rays, seems to make a thousand little 
coruscations that scintillate in the cold frosty air. I can tell 
you nothing of what was going on among the Generals. But 
there we were, and that is all that I can tell you. One morn- 
ing about daylight our army began to move. Our division 
was then on the extreme right wing, and then we were trans- 
ferred to the left wing. The battle had begun. We were 
continually moving to our left. We would build little tem- 
porary breastworks, then we would be moved to another 
place. Our lines kept on widening out, and stretching fur- 
ther and further apart, until it was aot more than a skeleton 
of a skirmish line from one end to the other. We started at 
a run. We cared for nothing. Not more than a thousand 
yards off, we could see the Yankee cavalry, artillery, and in- 
fantry, marching apparently still further to our left. We 
could see regiments advancing at double-quick across the 
iieilds, while, with our army, everything seemed confused. 
The private soldier could not see into things. It seemed to 
be somewhat like a flock of wild geese when they have lost 
their leader. We were wilhng to go anywhere, or to follow 
anyone who would lead us. We were anxious to flee, tight, 
or fortify. I have never seen an army so confused and de- 
moralized. The whole thing seemed to be tottering and 
trembling. When, Halt! Front! Right-dress! and Adjutant 
McKinney reads us the following order : 

" Soldiers — The Commanding General takes pleasure in 



226 BATTLES IN TENNESSEE. 

announcing to his troops that victory and success is now 
within their grasp; and the Commanding General feels proud 
and gratiiied that in every attack and assault the enemy have 
been repulsed; and the Commanding General will further 
say to his noble and gallant troops, 'Be of good cheer — all 
is well.' General John B. Hood, 

"General Commanding. 

" KiNLocK Falconer, 

" Acting Adjutant-General." 

I remember how this order was received. Every soldier 
said, " O, shucks; that is all shenanigan," for we knew that 
we had never met the enemy or fired a gun outside of a little 
skirmishing. And I will further state that that battle order, 
announcing success and victory, was the cause of a greater 
demoralization than if our troops had been actually engaged 
in battle. They at once mistrusted General Hood's judg- 
ment as a commander. And every private soldier in the 
whole army knew the situation of affairs. I remember when 
passing by Hood, how feeble and decrepit he looked, with an 
arm in a sling, and a crutcli in the other hand, and trying to 
guide and control his horse. And, reader, I was not a Chris- 
tian then, and am but little better to-day; but, as God sees 
my heart to-night, I prayed in my heart that da}^ for General 
Hood. Poor fellow, I loved him, not as a General, but as a 
good man. I knew when that army order was read, that 
General Hood had been deceived, and that the poor fellow 
was only trying to encourage his men. Every impulse of 
his nature was but to do good, and to serve his conntry^s 
best he could. Ah, reader! some day all will be well. 

We continued marching toward our left, our battle-line 
getting thinner and thinner. We could see the Federals ad- 
vancing, their blue coats and banners flying, and could see 
their movements and hear them giving their commands. Our 
regiment was ordered to double-quick to the extreme left 
wing of the army, and we had to pass up a steep hill, and 
the dead grass was wet and as slick as glass, and it was with 
the greatest difficulty that we could get up the steep hill 



BATTLES IN TENNESSEE. 227 

side. When we got to the top, we, as skirmishers, were or- 
dered to deploy still further to the left. Billy Carr and J. E. 
Jones, two as brave soldiers as ever breathed the breath of 
life — in fact, it was given up that they were the bravest and 
most daring men in the army of Tennessee — and myself, 
were on the very extreme left wing of our army. While we 
were deployed as skirmishers, I heard, " Surrender, surren- 
der," and on looking around us, I saw that we were right in 
the midst ot a Yankee line of battle. They were lying down 
in the bushes, and we were not looking for them so close to 
us. We immediately threw down our guns and surrendered. 
J. E. Jones was killed at the first discharge of their guns, 
when another Yankee raised up and took deliberate aim at 
Billy Carr, and fired, the ball striking him below the eye and 
passing through his head. As soon as I could, I picked up my 
gun, and as the Yankee turned, I sent a minnie ball crushing 
through his head, and broke and run. But I am certain that 
I killed the Yankee who killed Billy Carr, but it was too late 
to save the poor boy's life. As I started to run, a fallen dog- 
wood tree tripped me up, and I fell over the log. It was all 
that saved me. The log was riddled with balls, and thou- 
sands, it seemed to me, passed over it. A- I got up to run 
again, I was shot through the middle finger of the very hand 
that is now penning these lines, and the thigh. But I had 
just killed a Yankee, and was determined to get away from 
there as soon as I could. Howl did get back I hardly know, 
for I was wounded and surrounded by Yankees. One rushed 
forward, and placing the muzzle of his gun in two feet of 
me, discharged it, but it missed its aim, when I ran at him, 
grabbed him by the collar, and brought him oS a prisoner. 
Captain Joe P. Lee and Colonel H. R. Field remember this, 
as would Lieutenant-Colonel John L. House, were he alive ; 
and all the balance of Company H, who were there at the 
time. I had eight bullet holes in my coat, and two in my 
hand, beside the one in my thigh and finger. It was a hail 
storm of bullets. The above is true in every particular, and 
is but one incident of the war, which happened to hundreds 



228 BATTLES IN TENNESSEE. 

of Others. But, alas ! all our valor and victories were in 
vain, when God and the whole world were against us. 

Billy Carr was one of the bravest and best men I ever 
knew. He never knew what fear was, and in consequence of 
his reckless braveiy, had been badly wounded at Perry ville, 
Murfreesboro, Chickamauga, the octagon house, Dead Angle, 
and the 22nd of July at Atlanta. In every battle he was 
wounded, and finally, in the very last battle of the war, sur- 
rendered up his life for his country's cause. No father and 
mother of such a brave and gallant boy, should ever sorrow 
or regret having born t© them such a son. He was the flower 
and chivalry of his company. He was as good as he was 
brave. His bones rest yonder on the Overton hills to-day, 
while I have no doubt in my own mind that his spirit is with 
the Redeemer of the hosts of heaven. He was my friend. 
Poor boy, farewell ! 

When I got back to where I could see our lines, it was 
one scene of confusion and rout. Finney's Florida brigade 
had broken before a mere skirmish line, and soon the 
whole army had caught the infection, had broken, and were 
running in every direction. Such a scene I never saw. The 
army was panic-stricken. The woods ever}' where were full of 
running soldiers. Our officers v.-^ere crying, " Halt ! halt!" 
and trying to rally and re-form their broken ranks. The Fed- 
erals would dash their cavalry in amongst us, and even their 
cannon joined in the charge. One piece of Yankee artillery 
galloped past me, right on the road, uulimbered their gun, 
fired a few shots, and galloped ahead again. 

Hood's whole army was routed and in full retreat. Nearly 
every man in the entire army had thrown away his guns 
and accoutrements. More than ten thousand had stopped 
and allowed themselves to be captured, while many, dreading 
the horrors of a Northern prison, kept on, and I saw many, 
yea, even thousands, broken down from sheer exhaustion, 
with despair and pity written on their features. Wagon 
trains, cannon, artillery, cavalry, and infantry were all blended 
in inextricable confusion. Broken down and jaded horses 



BATTLE8 IN TENNESSEE. 229 

and mules refused to pull, and the badly-scared drivers looked 
like their eyes would pop out of their heads from fright. 
Wagon wheels, interlocking ench other, soon clogged the 
road, and wagons, horses, and provisions were left indiscrim- 
inately. The officers soon became etfecte'd with the demoral- 
ization of their troops, and rode on in dogged indifierence. 
General Frank Cheatham and General Loring tried to form 
a line at Brentwood, but the line they formed was like trying 
to stop the current of Duck river with a fish net. I believe 
the army would have rallied, had there been any colors to 
rally to. And as the straggling army moves on down the 
road, every now and then we can hear the sullen roar of the 
Federal artillery booming in the distance. I saw a wagon 
and team abandoned, and I unhitched one of the horses and 
rode on horse-back to Franklin, where a surgeon tied up my 
broken finger, and bandaged up my bleeding thigh. My 
boot was full of blood, and my clothing saturated with it. 
I was at General Hood's headquarters. He was much agi- 
tated and aftiected, pulling his hair with his one hand (he had 
but one), and crying like his heart would break. I pitied 
him, poor fellow. I asked him for a wounded furlough, and 
he gave it to me. I never saw him afterward. I always 
loved and honored him, and will ever revere and cherish his 
memory. He gave his life in the service of his country, and 
I know to-day he wears a garland of glory beyond the grave, 
where Justice says " well done," and Mercy has erased all 
his errors and faults. 

I only write of^ the under strata of history ; in other words, 
the 'privates' history — as I saw things then, and remember them 
now. 

The winter of 1864-5 was the coldest that had been known 
for many year. The ground was frozen and rough, and our 
soldiers were poorly clad, while many, yes, very many, were 
entirely barefooted. Our wagon trains had either gone on, 
we knew not whither, or had been left behind. Everything 
and nature, too, seemed to be working against us. Even the 
keen, cutting air that whistled through our tattered clothes, 



280 BATTLKS IN TENNESSEE. 

and over our poorly covered heads, seemed to lash us in its 
fury. The floods of waters tliat had overflowed their banks, 
seemed to langli at our calamity, and to mock us in our mis- 
fortunes. 

All along the ron'te were weary and footsore soldiers. The 
citizens seemed to shrink and hide from us as we apftroached 
them. And, to cap the climax, Tennessee river was over- 
flowing its banks, and several Federal gun-boats were anch- 
ored just below Mussel Shoals, firing at us while crossing. 

The once proud army of Tennessee had degenerated to a 
mob. We were pinched by hunger and cold. The rains, 
and sleet, and snow never ceased falling from the winter sky, 
while the winds pierced the old, ragged, grayback Rebel sol- 
dier to his very marrow. The clothing of many were hang- 
ing around them in shreds of rags, and tatters, while an old 
slouched hat covered their frozen ears. Some were on old, 
raw-boned horses, without saddles. 

Hon. Jefferson Davis perhaps made blunders and mistakes, 
but I honestly believe that he ever did what he thought best 
for the good of his country. And there never lived on this 
earth, from the days of Hampden to George Washington, a 
purer patriot or a nobler man than Jefterson Davis; and, like 
Marius, grand even in ruins. 

Hood was a good man, a kind man, a philanthropic man, 
but he is both harmless and defenseless now. He was a poor 
General in the capacity of Commander-in-Chief. Had he 
been mentally qualified, his physical condition would have 
disqualifed him. His legs and one of his arms had been 
shot oli in the defense of his country. As a soldier, he was 
brave, good, noble, and gallant, and fought with the fero- 
ciousness of the wounded tiger, and with the everlasting grit 
of the bull-dog; but as a General he was a failure in every 
particular. 

Our country is gone, our cause is lost. " Actum est de Re- 
publica.'' 



THE SURRENDER. 231 



CHAP. X 711.— THE SURREN'DER. 



THE LAST ACT OF THE DRAMA. 

On the 10th day of May, 1861, our regiment, the First 
Tennessee, left Nashville tor the camp of instruction, with 
twelve hundred and iifty men, officers and line. Other re- 
cruits continually coming in swelled this number to fourteen 
hundred. In addition to this. Major Fulcher's Battalion of 
four companies, with four hundred men (originally), was 
afterwards attached to the regiment; and the Twenty- 
seventh Tennessee Regiment was afterwards consolidated 
with the First. And besides this, there were about two hun- 
dred conscripts added to the regiment from time to time. 
To recapitulate: The First Tennessee, numbering originally, 
1,250 ; recruited from time to time, 150 ; Fulcher's Battalion, 
400; the Twenty-seventh Tennessee, 1,200; number of con- 
scripts (at tiie lowest estimate), 200 — making the sum total 
of 3,200 men that belonged to our regiment during the war. 
The above I think a low estimate. Well, on the 26th day of 
April, 1865, General Joe E. Johnston surrendered his army 
at Greensboro, North Carolina. The day that we surren- 
dered our regiment it was a pitiful sight to behold. If I re- 
member correctly, there were just sixty-five men in all, in- 
cluding officers, that were paroled on that day. Now, what 
became of the original 3,200? A grand army, you may say. 
Three thousand two hundred men! Only sixty-five left! 
Now, reader, you may draw your own conclusions. It lacked 
just four days of four years from the day we were sworn in 
to the day of the surrender, and it was just four years and 
twenty-four days from the time that we left home for the 
army to the time that we got back again. It was indeed a 
sad sight to look at, the old First Tennessee Regiment. A 
mere squad of noble and brave men, gathered around the 



232 THK SUKRENDEH. 

tattered flag that they had followed in every battle through 
that long war. It was so bullet-riddled and torn that it was 
but a few blue and red shreds, that hung drooping while it, 
too, was stacked with our guns forever. 

Therniopylifi had one messenger of defeat, but when Gen- 
eral Joe E. Johnston surrendered the Army of the South 
there were hundreds of regiments, yea, I might safely say 
thousands, that had not a representative on the 26th day of 

April, 1865. 

Our cause was lost from 'the beginning. Our greatest vic- 
tories— Chickamauga and Franklin— were our greatest de- 
feats Our people were divided upon the question of Union 
and secession. Our Generals were scrambling for " Who 
ranked.:' The private soldier fought and starved and died 
for naught. Our hospitals were crowded with sick and 
wounded, but half provided with food and clothing to sus- 
tain life.' Our money was depreciated to naught and our 
cau«e lost. We left our homes four years previous. Amid 
the waving of flags and handkerchiefs and the smiles of the 
ladies wWle the fife and drum were playing Dixie and the 
Bonnie Blue Flag, we bid farewell to home and friends. 
The bones of our brave Southern boys lie scattered over our 
loved South. They fought for their " country^ and gave 
their lives freely for that country's cause ; and now they who 
survive sit like Marius amid the wreck of Carthage, sublime 
even in ruins. Other pens abler than mine will have to 
chronicle their glorious deeds of valor and devotion. In 
these sketches I have named but a few persons who fought 
side by side with me during that long and unholy war. In 
looking back over these pages, I ask, Where now are many 
whose names have appeared in these sketches? They are 
UP yonder, and are no doubt waiting and watching for those 
of us who are left behind. And, my kind reader, the time 
is coming when we, too, will be called, while the archangel 
of death is beating the long roll of eternity, and with us it 
will be the last reveille. God himself will sound the " assem- 
bly " on yonder beautiful and happy shore, where we will 



THE SURRENDER. 233 

again have a grand " recoufederation." We shed a tear over 
their flower-strewn graves. We live after them. We love 
their memory yet. But one generation passes away and 
another generation follows. We know our loved and brave 
soldiers. We love them yet. 

But when we pass away, the impartial historian will render 
a true verdict, and a history will then be written in justifica- 
tion and vindication of those brave and noble boys who gave 
their all in fighting the battles of their homes, their country, 
and their God. 

" The United States has no North, no South, no East, no 
West." " We are one and undivided.''' 

ADIEU. 

My kind friends — soldiers, comrades, brothers, all: The 
curtain is rung down, the foot-lights are put out, the audience 
has all left and gone home, the seats are vacant, and the cold 
walls are silent. The gaudy tinsel that appears before the 
foot-lights is exchanged for the dress of the citizen. Coming 
generations and historians will be the critics as to how 
we have acted our parts. The past is buried in oblivion. 
The blood-red flag, with its crescent and cross, that we fol- 
lowed for four long, bloody, and disastrous years, has been 
folded never again to be unfurled. We have no regrets for 
what we did, but we mourn the loss of so many brave and 
gallant men who perished on the field of battle and honor. 
I now bid you an afiectionate adieu. 

But in closing these memoirs, the scenes of my life pass in 
rapid review before me. In imagination, I am young again 
to-night. I fell the flush and vigor of my manhood — am 
just twenty-one years of age. I hear the fife and drum play- 
ing Dixie and the Bonnie Blue Flag. I see and hear our fire- 
eating stump-orators tell of the right of secession and dis- 
union. I see our fair and beautiful women waving their 
handkerchiefs and encouraging their sweethearts to go to 
the war. I see the marshaling of the hosts for "glorious 
war." I see the fine banners waving and hear the cry every- 
16 



234 THE SURRENDER. 

where, " To arms ! to arms !" And I also see our country at 
peace and prosperous, our fine cities look gran^ and gay, our 
fields rich in abundant harvests, our people happy and con- 
tented. Ml these pass in imagination before me. Then I 
look and see glorious war in all its splendor. I hear the 
shout and charge, the boom of artillery and the rattle of 
small arms. I see gaily-dressed officers charging backwards 
and forwards upon their mettled war horses, clothed in the 
panoply of war. I see victory and conquest upon flying ban- 
ners. I see our arms triumph in every battle. And, 0, my 
friends, I see another scene. I see broken homes and broken 
hearts. I see war in all of its desolation. I see a country 
ruined and impoverished. I see a nation disfranchised and 
maltreated. I see a Commonwealth forced to pay dishonest 
and fraudulent bonds that were issued to crush that people. 
I see sycophants licking the boots of the country's oppressor. 
I see other and many wrongs perpetrated upon a conquered 
people. But maybe it is but the ghosts and phantoms of a 
dreamy mind, or the wind as it whistles around our lonel}^ 
cabin-home. The past is buried in oblivion. The mantle of 
charity has long ago fallen upon those who think differently 
from us. We remember no longer wrongs and injustice done 
us by any one on earth. We are w^illiug to forget and for- 
give those who have wronged and falsified us. We look up 
above and beyond all these petty, groveling things and shake 
hands and forget the past. And while my imagination is 
like the weaver's shuttle, playing backward and forward 
through these two decades of time, I ask myself, Are these 
things real? did they happen? are they being enacted to- 
day? or are they the fancies of the imagination in forgetful 
reverie? Is it true that I have seen all these things? that 
they are real incidents in my life's history ? Did I see those 
brave and noble countrymen of mine laid low in death and 
weltering in their blood? Did I see our country laid waste 
and in ruins? Did I see soldiers marching, the earth trem- 
bling and jarring beneath their measured tread? Did I see 
the ruins of smouldering cities and deserted homes? Did I 



THE SURRENDER. 235 

see my comrades buried and see tlie violet and wild flowers 
bloom over their graves? Did I see the flag of my country, 
that I had followed so long, furled to be no more unfurled 
forever? Surely the}' are but the vagaries of mine own im- 
agination. Surely my fancies are running wild to-night. 
But, hush ! I now^ hear the approach of battle. That low, 
rumbling sound in the West is the roar of cannon in the dis- 
tance. That rushing sound is the tread of soldiers. That 
quick, lurid glare is the flash that precedes the cannon's roar. 
And listen ! that loud report that makes the earth tremble 
and jar and sway, is but the bursting of a shell, as it screams 
through the dark, tempestuous night. That black, ebon 
cloud, where the lurid lightning flickers and flares, that is 
rolling through the heavens, is the smoke of battle; beneath 
is being enacted a carnage of blood and death. Listen ! 
the soldiers are charging now. The flashes and roaring now 
are blended with the shouts of soldiers and confusion of 
battle. 

But, reader, time has brought his changes since I, a young, 
ardent, and impetuous youth, burning with a lofty patriotism, 
first shouldered my musket to defend the rights of my 
country. 

Lifting the veil of the past, I see many manly forms, bright 
in youth and hope, standing in view by my side in Company 
H, First Tennessee Regiment. Again I look and half those 
forms are gone. Again, and gray locks and wrinkled faces 
and clouded brows stand before me. 

Before me, too, I see, not in imagination, but in reality, my 
own loved Jennie, the partner of my joys and the sharer of 
my sorrows, sustaining, comforting, and cheering my path- 
way by her benignant smile; pouring the sunshine of domes- 
tic comfort and happiness upon our humble home; making 
life more worth the living as we toil on up the hill of time 
together, with the bright pledges of our early and constant 
love by our side, while the sunlight of hope ever brightens 
our pathway, dispelling darkness and sorrow as we hand in 
hand approach the valley of the great shadow. 



236 THE SURRENDER. 

The tale is told. The world moves on, the suti shines as 
brightly as before, the flowers bloom as beautifully, the birds 
sing their carols as sweetly, the trees nod and bow their leafy 
tops as if slumbering in the breeze, the gentle winds fan our 
brow and kiss our cheek as they pass b}', the pale moon 
sheds her silvery sheen, the blue dome of the sky sparkles 
with the trembling stars that twinkle and shine and make 
night beautiful, and the scene melts and gradually disappears 
forever. 



THE END. 



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